The Musician
by 4ever-write
Summary: General Monroe has broken one of the most basic guidelines of ruling: Never fall in love. Especially not with the staff.
1. Chapter 1

AN: First of all, this story is finished in a notebook, so you don't need to worry about me dropping it off halfway through or whatever. Secondly, any present tense is eight years after the blackout. So here it is, Chapter One!

I walk into the bar, my mission clear in mind. Trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, I close in on my target. This is it, my moment to prove myself. My fingers clutch my most powerful weapon-a bag of the diamonds we use as currency.

Okay, so this isn't the kind of mission you thought it was; I'm buying single malt whiskey.

I pay for the bottle and exit the bar. As much as I'd like to stay in the heart of the city for awhile, I'm on a time crunch, so I keep walking. No stops, no lolly-gagging, until I get to Monroe's mansion, where I work.

The militiamen at the gate are so accustomed to my comings and goings that they don't even acknowledge my presence anymore. Running errands isn't technically part of my job, but I volunteer when everyone else seems busy. Bill, the old grandpa of a butler, gives me a smile but doesn't say anything. Nobody here is dumb enough to get between Monroe and his booze.

When I finally get up the staircases and arrive at the general's suite, I stop and listen very carefully after knocking to ensure there is no reply. No one answers me, so I sneak in and set the alcohol on his desk. While I'm doing this, I hear the door open behind me. I jump so hard in surprise that I hit a framed picture of a couple who I assume are Monroe's parents. It shatters as it collides with the polished wood floor.

Instantly I'm on the ground, stuttering apologies as I sweep up glass shards into my hands. Someone gently grabs my wrists, causing me to stop, and I realize that I never bothered looking to see if the person who came in was a soldier or a maid or what.

"It's alright," he says. "No use cutting yourself. There's a dustpan in the closet."

I nod, finally looking at the man's face. I have to blink rapidly a few times in surprise before I can even acknowledge him.

"Oh, I-I'm so s-sorry, General. I j-just slipped, and-"

"Don't worry about it," says Monroe as he stands and goes to the closet for that dustpan. "I have other picture frames."

Momentarily mute, I can only nod. I take the cleaning supplies from him and try to sweep it up as quickly as possible. I've met Monroe a number of times in the year I've worked here, but never outside of work, and especially never under such embarrassing circumstances.

"There you are, sir. I'll have someone bring up a new frame immediately. I'm so sorry, General."

"Like I said," he replies, "it isn't a problem. Oh, and Kate?"

"Y-yes?" I ask, my brain rescrambled by his casual use of my nickname.

"You can call me Sebastian."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

As I hurry out, I can hear him chuckle at my jumpiness.

"What happened to you?" asks my friend Anna as I dump the glass into the garbage can in the hallway.

"I, uh, what do you mean?"

She snorts. Stupid best friends and their ability to see right through lies.

"Well," Anna giggles. "You're walking around red as a cherry with a bunch of broken glass. Whatever happened, it must have been hilarious."

I mumble out the details of my "exciting" afternoon adventure, and my friend can't stop laughing. She was one of the first maids hired here, so she's no longer at all intimidated by the higher-ups. Sure, she's afraid of punishment as much as anyone, but she also knows who will let what slide.

"It's not funny," I growl. "I'm going to have to play for him tonight, too."

"Oh, you poor baby!" Anna mocks.

"You're no help!"

"Sorry," she says, although her malevolent grin says otherwise. "Too bad, sweet cheeks. I guess you'll just have to face him. Seriously, though, I don't know what you're so worried about. I could understand your spazz attack if it had been Matheson, but-"

"Was that my name I heard?"

Anna's chipper mood dies instantly as General Miles Matheson steps casually out of a doorway. My heart pounds out a tribal war dance as he leans against the wall with a lazily raised eyebrow.

"Well, ladies?" he asks, fingering a knife on his belt. Though he never loses that calm demeanor, Anna and I know enough stories to keep us a safe distance away.

Matheson takes a few steps closer, closing in the gap, and every fiber of my being wants to run, but I'm frozen in fear. The man sizes us up and takes a step toward me, apparently thinking I look scared or guilty or something. He holds his knife under my chin, and I'm so terrified that I start seeing spots.

"C'mon, sweetheart." His breath reeks of alcohol as he whispers into my face. "Tell me what you were saying about me."

"Hey, Miles!" calls out a voice from down the corridor.

"Yeah, Bass?"

General Matheson sheaths his knife, and I turn around to see General Monroe right in front of me, shaking his head but looking amused all the same.

"You've had your fun, Miles. Now would you please let my employees get back to work? Besides-" He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Kate here has had a pretty rough day. Haven't you, Kate?"

I realize he's expecting a response, so I squeak out a quick, "Yes, sir." Matheson laughs and walks over to his friend.

"Alright, Bass. You win," he says.

"Come have some single malt, then. I just got a new bottle."

The two friends walk away, joking and being obnoxious like nothing happened at all. Anna turns to me as soon as we're alone, her eyes wide.

"Dang, Kate!" she says.

"What?"

"Since when are you and Monroe so buddy-buddy?"

"We're not!"

She gives me a look like she doesn't believe me and retorts, "I've been working here much longer than you, and he still calls me Ms. Archer. And there is definitely no shoulder-touching between us. Since when dose he call you by your nickname?"

"Um, since today, I guess. He called me Kate after I broke the picture. Then he asked me to call him Sebastian."

Anna's jaw drops open.

"What?" I ask. "I mean, I know it's weird, but-"

"Weird!?" she explodes in a burst of some undefinable emotion. "Girl, this is _way_ beyond weird!"

Frustrated, I say, "Well, then what does it mean?"

She hesitates, trying to think of a good answer.

"I don't know. But you'd better be careful. He's a dangerous man."

...

I adjust my necklace and try to breathe normally. Performing always makes me nervous, and the confusing events of this afternoon sure aren't helping.

Shaking away all thoughts of nicknames and broken frames, I smooth my skirt and walk downstairs with my flute in hand; I am to provide background music for the general's date tonight. My service are utilized during the many suppers which proceed one-nighters, as well as anytime Monroe is drawing out plans or checking taxes and misses his Ipod.

I warm up my instrument quick in the kitchen, then set up my music stand in the dining room. The scantily clad woman setting next to the general hardly notices me as the two eat and make small talk. I pull a soft, simple piece from my binder, not in the mood to impress a pair of legs in a cocktail dress.

Practically lulling myself to sleep with a Mozart piece which is probably most commonly used to help babies nap, I have such an easy time playing this song which I've never played before that I can afford to pay attention to the people in front of me rather than the unfamiliar notes. When I glance upward from my music in front of me, the pair looks like they're sucking each other's faces off. The sight causes my fingers to freeze and my jaw to drop. They don't even notice the faux pa, and I gather my things and leave the room without drawing attention to myself.

I can't fathom why that bothered me so much. I know that this night will lead to something a bit less fun to watch, and that sort of thing has been going on for years now. So why did a little kiss bother me so dang much?

I decide to brush it off as simply feeling awkward actually seeing it happen. That taken care of, I can have some fun since I'm officially off of work. Since it's early summer, even though it's getting on the late side, it will still be light long enough for a quick shopping trip.

Grab a bit of money-check. Get rid of the fancy outfit for something normal-check. This all in order, I run down the cracked Philadelphia streets to the only bookstore in the city. Henry, the owner, just got back from his trip to scavenge abandoned buildings for new reading material, and he promised to look for new sheet music for me before he left.

"Katherine!" beams Henry's wife, Abby, as I come inside. She's much thinner than the last time I saw her a month ago, so I assume the squealing newborn in her arms is the baby she and her husband have been expecting.

"Hey, Abby!" I respond. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy. His name's Ben."

"That's great. Did Henry get back in time to help out?"

"Yes, I did!" calls a baritone voice from within the maze of shelves. Henry's unkempt hair and skewed glasses peek out from around a corner. "The little guy tried to pop out early, but I beat him to it!"

Abby and I laugh as Henry comes up to where we are. He's holding a big portfolio with separate papers shoved in haphazardly, and I childish excitement overtakes me as I begin to jump up and down at the thought of new music. I open the portfolio as soon as Henry hands it to me, leafing through the various parts. Bach, Harry Potter soundtracks, Green Day, and Disney-what more could a girl need?

"I love you guys!" I squeal, unable to care about how much of an idiot I look like in my sporadic excitement. I throw my money bag at Henry and hug the folder in delight. He laughs.

"Quite the tip, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's only a few ounces," I say. "Consider it a baby shower present or something. It's not like I spend it on anything other than this anyway."

Abby breaks into our conversation. "Okay, you two. I don't mean to rain on your nerdy little parade, but shouldn't you be getting back, Katherine? The sun is setting."

"Oh, yeah. Crap. Bye!"

I run out with a final wave and speed down the street. I'll never make it home by nightfall, but I'm too nappy to care. All is right with the world when I have my music.


	2. Chapter 2

**Night of Blackout**

I rocked back and forth on my feet anxiously. This was my first solo at a band concert, and I was freaking out. Sure, I'd been practicing all semester, and sure my band teacher, Mr. Tuberson, said I was a prodigee, but still.

My class filed out onto the stage, myself included, and as I took place with the other flutese I tried to look calm. This was just like dress rehearsal, right? Nothing was going to go wrong. Right?

Our first two songs went on without a single problem, so I started my solo with confidence. I glanced at Mr. Tuberson and he nodded encouragingly. The audience was completely silent as I made them wait in anticipation, for one second, then two.

Then I began.

My piece was a suspence. It started out as slow and as calm as pireates tiptoeing through a cave. Then, as a long, wavering note drew to a close once the pireates were feeling safe with their treasure, I exploded into a cascade of high-pitched sixteenth notes at lightning speed as if a beast had come out of a hole in the wall of the cave. The shrieking notes laid out the story of a vicious slaughter which left no mercy on a single treasure seeker.

The power went out halfway through the performance-normal for the area-but I kept playing. I had memorized this solo ages ago.

...

I set up my music and warm up my instrument in Monroe's office. He's deep in concentration, probably devising battle plans or mapping out supply lines or something. He only looks up at me long enough to acknowledge my presence with a quick nod, which is fine with me; I've always been a little antisocial.

Part of me feels downright giddy, taking out brand-spanking-new music. I select a piece by my favorite pre-blackout band and start to play. It's upbeat and fun, but before I finish half the song the general is staring at me in horror.

"No!" he says. I startle and stop playing.

"What?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

Monroe shakes his head and says, "Seriously, after the blackout, the _only_ benefit I could find was that I'd never have to listen to One Direction again!"

"Hey, I loved 1D!"

He snorts. "What, were you, like, twelve when the lights went out?"

"Um, yes, actually."

His eyebrows raise as he looks at me in a new light.

"Wow. That must make you only about nineteen or twenty now, right? You're still practically a kid."

"In this world, you grow up or you die."

It's true. Being afraid of most people is a way of self-defence, and maybe I'm shy and immature most days, but that's because working for Monroe has given me the luxury of safety. When I was alone after my family died, I was quick to kill and I hated myself for it. If I try hard enough, though, I can get through the day without thinking about what I've done. That immaturity I mentioned earlier can also help me forget.

"That's certainly true," replies Monroe, breaking through my throughts. "It's too bad, though. When I was your age...Well, I guess when I was your age I joined the military. I guess I had to grow up quickly as well, come to think of it."

I nod, and we stand there in silence for a minute, both trapped in our own memories.

"You know," says the general, "this is kind of random, and I apologize, but...Miles is a good guy."

I squint at him for a moment, wondering if his sanity has left him.

"Um, okay?"

"Sorry," he says. "It's just that when he was scaring you a couple days ago, I swear he didn't mean any harm. Sometimes he just doesn't know how far is too far to take a joke."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Don't worry about it."

I don't mention how terrified I've been of Matheson since that happened, nor do I ask why Monroe cares what I think of his friend. While I'm deciding to ignore that little statement, my mind makes an instant choice to notice how close I'm standing to General Monroe.

My heart starts to beat faster, my palms sweat. I was having a normal conversation with the man who rules the entire republic? Not only that, but I wasn't afraid. I didn't shake like I usually do when we talk. Heck, I thought his comment about One Direction was _funny!_

Before I can think to hard about all of this-my mind jumps through these thoughts in a matter of seconds-there is a knock on the door and Monroe takes a step back before telling the preson to come in. I quickly busy myself in pretending to adjust my flute, although I'm not sure why; who cares if I've been talking to the general, right?

Captain Stausser, a somewhat new officer who has risen through the ranks like lightning, enters.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir."

"At ease."

The man nods his head and assumes a slightly slouched stance prior to speaking.

"There is urgent business in New York which..." He glances at me apprehensively. "...Which I need to speak to you about."

Monroe sighs, then replies, "Of course. Kate, you are excused."

I grab my things and all but sprint out of there. I find Anna setting tables in the dining hall for the officers' lunch right after I put my instrument away in my room. My best friend has to keep working while I talk to her, as always, but at least she's alone when I find her.

"Anna!" I hiss. She glances up at me with a smirk.

"Girl, you look like you've seen a ghost. What happened this time? See a spider?"

"No, this is serious!"

"Right."

I growl, infuriated by her contempt. I get scared easily because, unlike her, I understand the power which figure of authority hold over me. When my friend looks at me in response to the growl, however, she actually _sees_ me, really reads my emotions, and stops what she's doing.

"What's wrong?"

I sigh, suddenly almost not wanting to share the events of the morning with Anna. Still, I need to get it off my chest somehow.

"Well, I was playing for Monroe, and then he started making fun of the fact that I picked One Direction-Stop laughing, Anna!-and then we started talking and having fun, then someone came in and I remembered who I was with and-Oh, I don't know! You're supposed to be the smart one; you figure it out!"

Anna stares at me in silence for a minute. When she finally talks, I can't quite read the expression on her face.

"This is insane," she whispers. "I honestly don't know whether to be enraged or overjoyed."

"What do you mean?" I ask suspisciously.

"My best friend is in love!"

"What? Who am I in-wait, what? No, I'm not! I barely know him!"

Anna laughs at my horrified glare.

"Fine," she says, "but you're totally in _like _with him!"

"You're just trying to make me uncomfortable," I insist. "He's the big, scary commander of the republic, remember? And he's old!"

Anna retorts, "Men of power are attractive, and age hasn't really mattered since before the blackout. Now that everybody's dying all the time, by the time he's old enough to be put in a home or be dependent on you or whatever, you both will probably be dead!"

"Ew! Just shut up!"

"Someone's in denial," my friend sings. I give her a death glare until she throws her hands up in surrender.

"Fine," she says. "How about this: You are interested in some form of relational bond with him, be that bond romantic or one of simple friendship."

Anna seems proud of her explanation, so I nod in defeat, knowing she will never stop bothering me about it either way.

"And," she adds, "Monroe probably feels the same."


	3. Chapter 3

"Katherine Sophia Jefferson, you are a _liar!_"

"Anna, seriously. It's just Henry and Abby. Well, and little Ben, of course. I'll probably offer to babysit the kid after lunch so his parents can go on a nice walk or something.

"Sure, Kate. Sure."

My friend overheard me telling the head cook, Agatha, that I wasn't going to make it for lunch, and that she thus didn't need to make any for me. Anna, of course, got it in her head that I'm sneaking off to have a meal with Monroe. I don't think she really believes that, but she's certainly enjoying razzing me.

"You know what?" I ask. "Go ahead. Think I'm lying. It doesn't change the truth. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

I decide to use the back door of the mansion, knowing I'll be able to skip a block and a half by cutting through an alley, so I head toward the southern end of the house. This is where any offices are, so I try to stay quiet. And I come _so close_ to achieving this-so close! At the end of the hallway, though, a door swings out and hits me in the face.

To be honest, I've been in worse pain, but this is still enough to make me fall backward.

A muttered curse and half-hearted apology greet my ears as I stand back up. The not-so-apologetic tone of annoyance disappears and is replaced with chuckling. Confused, I look up to see that General Matheson was the one who hit me in the face.

"Hey, Bass!" he laughs. "You should tell your girlfriend that if she really wants your attention, there are better ways than killing herself through so-called accidents!"

My mouth drops open against my will. What?! I didn't actually give the general _that_ impression, did I?

"Miles, stop," Monroe laughs. "C'mon, we both know she doesn't deserve your teasing. Just look at her!"

"Nah, I think red suits her!" insists Matheson, patting my burning cheek.

"Miles-"

"Okay, okay! I'll leave you two love birds alone."

He walks out with a loud guffaw, and Monroe rolls his eyes with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that," he says. "Miles can overstep boundaries, but I swear it's all in good fun."

"Oh, yeah. Um, no problem, sir."

"No problem, _Sebastian_," he says. I frown.

"Um, that's not my name, sir."

He laughs.

"No, Kate. I was repeating you but adding my name in, as a way of reminding you to call me Sebastian."

"Oh."

I nod, and my head starts to spin. I put a hand over my mouth, and Monroe knows what's happening without me saying anything. He gets a trash can to me right before I can barf all over his carpet.

As bile burns my throat and splashes into the can, I blink spots out of my eyes. When everything's out, I have to sit still, recovering, for a few minutes. The general hands me a cloth to wipe my face with, and I register the feeling of his hand on the nape of my neck, holding back my hair. I'm glad that he can't notice my blush as being more than flushed post-puke cheeks.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I swear I wasn't sick a minute ago."

"Don't apologize," Monroe commands gently. "You sit here and relax. I'm gonna find a doctor."

"Doctor?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Miles gave you a concussion when he hit you with that door."

"Oh."

As he leaves, I think of something else.

"Um, sir?"

He turns around. "Yes, Kate?"

"Could you also bring a messenger? I'm supposed to have lunch with some friends in the city, the owners of the bookstore, and-"

"Of course," he interrupts gently. Then he leaves, and I'm alone with my puke.

I just close my eyes and am content with doing nothing until he comes back. Apparently he has already sent a word of explanation to Henry and Abby, so now all I have to do is obey the doctor.

Dr. Bohman makes me lay flat on my back while he checks my outward symptoms. I'm all too aware of Monroe, who is sitting in a chair, watching. Eventually, the doctor stands and helps me up with a kind smile.

"Good news, Katherine," he says. "You're going to make it. In fact, it seems as though you were only sick because the force of being hit jarred your inner fluids a bit. No head trauma, though."

"Thanks, Doc," says the general.

Once Doctor Bohman leaves, I'm again alone with Monroe. I clear my throat awkwardly.

"Thank you, sir," I say. "I should probably get going now-don't want to keep my friends waiting."

"Hold on," says Monroe with a frown. I tense up, wondering what I've done.

"Is something wrong, sir?" I ask.

He sighs.

"Other than your blatant refusal to call me Sebastian, just that I'm not sure you should be out on your own quite yet."

I shake my head.

"I'll be fine," I promise. "Besides, I'm not sure that Henry and Abby would exactly like me should up with an armed guard."

"Do you at least have any friends?" Monroe asks. "I would feel more comfortable is you weren't alone."

"Well, I'm pretty good friends with Anna Archer, but since she's working-"

"Say no more," the general insists. He sits down at his desk and scrawls out a note. He then proceeds to hand me the paper.

"There," he says with a triumphant smile. "Now you have no excuse."

"Oh, uh, thanks. Um, bye, sir."

"Sebastian."

"Yep."

"Goodbye, Kate."

Stopping myself from running proves to be quite difficult as I hurry down the hallway. I don't bother looking for Anna quite yet; instead I find Mrs. Carroway, the stern woman who oversees the maids. Her mouth falls open in shock when she reads my note.

"This...this is real?" She quints at me. "But you-you are an employee!"

"I guess I'm just awesome," I say, taking back the paper.

Before I find Anna, I stop and read the note. Nothing weird, just his insistence on calling me by my first name and the fact that he cares so much for my safety, I guess.

My friend is folding linens with a couple slightly younger girls, probably fifteen or sixteen. The way they copy her hand movements exactly, they must be new.

"Kate!" Anna exclaims when she sees me. "I thought you were going out!"

"I am, and so are you."

"Girl, I'm working. What exactly-"

"I gave Mrs. Carroway a note signed by Monroe. You're fine."

The three maids all drop their mouths open in surprise. The younger ones gaze back and forth between Anna and me like we're movie stars. After the shock settles in, my friend just smiles.

"Sweet," she says. "But you've got a lot of explaining to do!"

Anna dashes to her room to change, and I start talking while she throws on a pain of jeans.

"So, I was walking toward the back entrance to use that shortcut," I say. "Then, out of nowhere, General Matheson comes out of his and Monroe's office and slams a door in my face."

By now we're walking down the stairs.

I continue, "Then I barfed, and Monroe thought I had a concussion, so he called Doc Bohman. Then, even after it had been confirmed that I am not concussed, he wouldn't let me go visit Henry and Abby without taking someone with to make sure I'm okay."

My friend drinks in my story like it's vodka. While we walk down that last hallway in silence, she doesn't seem to have anything to say for once in her life. As I watch her turn over the events of my story in her head, I notice an open door and curse myself for choosing this route out of habit. I quicken my pace slightly, trying to keep my head down and look invisible. Of course, Monroe still sees us through the doorway.

"Kate," he calls out as he rises from his desk. "This is your friend Anna, right?"

"Yeah. Um, thanks for getting her off work."

"Not a problem." He smiles. His electric blue eyes sparkle. Even when he turns to address my friend, his eyes stay on me.

"Now, Anna," he says pleasantly. "Make sure Kate doesn't push herself too hard, okay?"

Anna, who has been silent in awe of this exchange that the potential flirtiness this whole time, doesn't respond until I elbow her in the gut.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Anytime, General."

We don't speak again until we are safely outside. Anna makes me recount every word Monroe said earlier. I laugh at her enthusiasm when I finish, and she begins to rattle off theories about love or whatever as we walk down the final road leading to the bookstore.

At this time of day, the sun is out and vendors are showing off their wares. Salespeople travel from all over to sell in the wealthiest city of the republic, and I like to look at the new faces. One of them causes me to freeze midstep. Anna looks at my facial expression fearfully.

"Kate? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say in a strained voice. "Just go ahead and tell Henry and Abby that I'm gonna be late."

"What!? Why?"

"See that woman selling apples? I thinks she's my mom."


	4. Chapter 4

"Kate, didn't you say your mom's dead?"

I don't stop staring at the woman, just in case she is about to disappear as soon as I look away.

"No," I reply to Anna's question. "I always assumed she was dead because she had been scheduled to be on an airplane coming back from a business trip when the blackout happened. I couldn't consider the possibility that she hadn't been in the air because I needed to focus on surviving, especially after my dad died of tuberculosis."

Neither of us say anything for a minute.

"Go." Anna breaks through the silence. "I'll cover for you with Henry and Abby."

Nodding gratefully, I slowly push my way through the crowd. She's tanner, thinner, older, but still very much the woman who raised me. When I finally get to her, I flake out and start examining the apples until her assistant notices me.

"These are the finest the orchards could produce!" he proclaims proudly. "I've never seen such bright red skin, have you?"

I admit that they look very delicious. At the sound of my voice, my mother glances up, and our eyes meet. In that instant, she knows.

"Katie?" she asks. Her assistant falls silent. "Baby girl, is that you?"

I nod, unable to speak. My mother walks around the stand and hugs me. We just hold each other tightly for a minute. I've mastered the art of holding in emotions, at least the painful ones-didn't even cry when Dad died-but returning to a luxurious lifestyle has softened my more than I'd thought. I feel a stray tear roll off my cheek onto my mom's shoulder. After a few minutes, she steps back and I wipe my face.

"Sweetie," she says, "how have you been? Are you selling something here today? Where have you been living?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Really."

There's a pause as I try to decide how to answer her other questions.

I say, "I'm actually not selling anything. Believe it or not, I've figured out how to use my skills as a musician to earn my keep."

"Really?" My mother's eyes widen. "How?"

"Well..."

There's no use beating around the bush, even though I feel uncomfortable being more successful than my mom, so I spit it out.

"I've been playing in General Monroe's mansion."

She blinks in surprise, not saying anything. After awkward seconds, she gulps and says, "Okay."

I take this as enough confirmation of recovery from shock to proceed.

"What about you, mom? How have things been for you?"

"Oh, fine," she replies in that mom voice. You know, where they imply that nothing matters but their kids. "I found an orchard owned by some people who were independent growers pre-blackout. Cameron here-" She gestures to her assistant, who waves. "-is their son. He's good looking, but twenty-four. Way too old for you!"

Cameron and I blush simultaneously, and I wonder what my mom would think about the way Anna and General Matheson tease me and Monroe. The thought sends chills down my spine.

"So," I say, changing the subject. "How long are you staying in town?"

My mom's face drops, as if she's forgotten that she won't be able to stay here forever.

"I-" she starts. "The-I mean, the thing is, we didn't think we could find a place in Phili to sleep, so our vendor's permit expires tonight. And-" her eyes begin to water. "-And who knows when we'll be able to get our hands on another?"

I understand where she's coming from. Philadelphia is nearly impossible to get into if you don't know someone, and my mom and Cameron had probably had to wait outside the city for days before they'd found a lucky opportunity. I had originally come in because I'd realized that militia members, who not only paid me but offered safety, were the best customers, and Monroe had learned about me through someone I'd played for.

"You know," I say, "I do know General Monroe. I might be able to pull a few strings."

...

One Year Ago

"You really have a gift, Katherine."

I thanked her and continued eating. That afternoon I had played for Mr. and Mrs. Kraylic, who were both high-ranking militia members posted in Chester, Pennsylvania. They were possibly the best audience I'd ever had, certainly nicer than most. I'd finally had the chance to show off the flute beat-boxing I'd been practicing, and they'd loved it.

"So, Katherine."

"Yes, Mr. Kraylic?"

"What would you say about staying until tomorrow night? We're having a little dinner party, and live music might just give it that extra bit of pizzazz."

"Wow," I replied. "That would be great. Thanks!"

"There's just one tiny detail."

I turned to Mrs. Kraylic with a raised eyebrow.

"What's the problem?"

"Nothing much," she said, tapping her fingers on the table. "We're having some friends over who are stopping here on their way back to Phili after some diplomatic journey to Atlanta."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Oh, nothing!" interjected Mr. Kraylic. "In fact, they could be very good for your wallet in the future if they like your playing."

I sighed. "Then what's the issue exactly?"

"They can be...rather intimidating. Well, one especially. But I assure you, General Monroe is a great person once you get to know him!"

...

Cameron stays behind to sell apples. My mother and I swap our job descriptions and various stories as we walk to the mansion. Mom, whose back has never been all that great, washes and sellsthe fruit. The orchard is owned by my mom's old college friend, who played tennis with her until my mom threw out her back and couldn't play any longer, and her husband. My mom had been in a nearby city when the blackout occurred, and she headed there when she realized that the power was never coming back.

"It's funny," she says, "but I kept wishing I could get back to you, and in the earlier months it never even occurred to me that you might be sick or starying; for those first few months, I wanted to apologize for missing your band concert!"

I crack up at that, but my laughter dies down as we near Monroe's estate. Taking a deep breath, I lead my mom inside the front entrance, procastinating the task at hand as much as possible.

"Hey, mom," I say as the guards at the gate give us strange looks. "Could you do me a favor?"

"What, sweetie?"

"Just let me do the talking. Please?"

She nods with slightly pursed lips. "Alright."

Faking confidence, I stride into the mansion, toward the hall I sneaked through earlier. I can't believe I'm actually doing this, but I knock on the door of Monroe's office. As the door handle turns, part of me is excited to see him again, though mostly I'm worried about the favor I'm going to ask of him.

"Kate?"

General Monroe's bright blue eyes widen in surprise.

"Hi, sir," I say, rocking awkwardly on my heels. "Are you busy?"

"Not at all," he replies amiably. "Why don't you come into my office? You and your friend..."

He says it like it's a question.

"Thatnks. Um, this is my mom, Melissa Jefferson."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jefferson." He sticks out a hand, and she shakes it. "My name is Sebastian Monroe."

"Oh. Hello."

Clearly, my mom didn't come here expecting to meet the general himself despite my claim of knowing him, but she recovers quickly and we all go into the office and sit down in various chairs.

"So, Kate," says Monroe once we're situated. "What did you want to ask me about?"

"Well," I answer, "I haven't seen my mom in a while-we actually were separated by the blackout-and we only found each other by coincedence today. She was selling apples, but her vendor's permit expires tonight, and-"

"And you were wondering if I could authorize an extension?" he guesses. I nod, and he says, "Of course. Really, Kate; you seemed so nervous coming in, but you asked for something so small!"

"I dunno," I shrug. "I just don't like intruding on people's hospitality."

"Is that why you didn't ask me if your mother could stay here?"

"Well..."

"She can. I'll have a cot brought to your room."

"That-that's great! Thank you!"

I almost jump up and hug him out of habit, then mentally slap myself for that. As my mom I get up toleave, the general stops us.

"Hold on, Kate," he says. "I forgot to mention that this is going to come at a price."

"Oh." That's disappointing. "How much?"

"Nothing you can't afford." He smiles playfully. "Just a kiss."

My mother's mouth drops open in shock and horror. I glare at the general, see that he's joking, and slap him on the arm. He starts laughing, and I'm not talking about just any laughter: I mean the teary-eyed, doubled-over type. It's contagious, and soon we're both cracking up, and my mom's looking at us like we're crazy.

"Well," he gasps when he regains his composure. "I just figured it was worth a try."

"Oh, shut up, Sebastian. Just shut up!"

"As you wish."

He winks, I snort, and all too soon I'm leading my mom back outsidee so she can explain our success in getting the permit renewed to Cameron. It's weird how disappointed I am to be leaving, even if only temporarily.

"Kate!" snaps my mom. I glance at her, surprised by the sudden anger in her tone.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I said your name three times, and you completely ignored me!"

"Oh," I frown. "Sorry. I didn't hear you."

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, actually. I feel great!"

My mom stops walking and turns to me with a sad smile.

"Mom? You okay?"

"I'll be fine," she says. "It's just...hard. Seeing you all grown up, even though you're still supposed to be my little girl."

I hug her, and say, "I'm still here for you, Mom...but if you don't mind my asking, where the heck did this burst of sentimentality even come from?"

Her eyes glaze over. "The way the general was looking at you...your father used to look at me that way."

"Really?"

I smile at the thought of him giving me that sort of gaze. Does he really feel that way about me?

"But, honey," adds my mom. "I'm not so sure...I mean, do you know exactly what you're getting yourself into? This man has killed people."

I sigh.

"Hasn't everybody?"

...

Melissa Jefferson leaves her daughter in charge of selling apples so she and Cameron can discuss details of how long they can stay and whatnot. But only out of earshot, so Kate won't hear.

"This is perfect!" beams Cameron. "We came here to map out Philadelphia, but you could do so much more now! In-depth maps of key points in the city, insider's knowledge about Monroe-"

"Cameron," interjects Melissa, "I'm only going to stay here for another day or two. How much more do you expect me to do?"

The boy shakes his head.

"Melissa," he sighs, "look at the bigger picture here. You're Kate's mom. How hard would it really be to make your stay here permanent?"

"But the rebels need me on base," she counters. "They never have enough medics even with me, and-"

"And you getting a straight shot at Monroe would help the cause more than any of that!"

"Cameron, what are you saying?"

"Listen, Melissa. I know you don't like the thought of killing anyone, but assassinating Monroe would save the thousands he might murder in the future."

"No, you don't understand-"

"What?" spits Cameron. "What could possibly be more important than this?"

"My daughter is in love with the general," Melissa explains. "I can't hurt her."

Sighing, Cameron puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Melissa," he says, "I know this is going to be hard, but we're talking about the greater good. Kate will get over it, and even if she doesn't, the love life of one little girl is not as important as the freedom of an entire nation.  
"Listen. I'll smuggle you in a gun as soon as I can. Think carefullly on your decision, because if you don't use the gun to kill Monroe, you might as well just shoot yourself."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Sorry it's been a few days. This one will be long, though, and full of feels. :)

"You guys are the best!"

"Anytime, Katherine," promises Henry with a smile.

You see, Henry and Abby offered to let Cameron stay with them until he leaves the city, as long as he does a few chores around the house. I really appreciate this because, well, asking the general if I could also have a guy stay over would be...just no.

So Anna, my mom, and I leave after supper. I felt bad bringing so many people over uninvited, but when I stopped by to apologize for missing lunch and picked up Anna they'd insisted we stay for dinner. It had been pretty fun-we laughed and played an old pre-blackout game called "Scattegories"-but it couldn't last forever.

Nobody mentions on the way home that my mom can't stay in town forever. Nobody observes that selling apples isn't a permanent source of income without an orchard nearby, and nobody talks about how hard it will be to say goodbye.

When we get back to the mansion, we sit in my room and things which don't really matter. The sun is low in the sky when there's a knock on the door. I get up to answer it. Some employee whose name escapes me hands me a sealed envelope with a shrug.

"I don't know what this is or who sent it," he says, "but it has your name on it, so I assume it's yours."

"Yeah, that's probably a safe bet." I smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

He leaves, and as soon as the door closes Anna is on me like a hawk.

"Do you think _he_ sent it?" she giggles, wiggling her eyebrows.

"How should I know? Give me a chance to open it!"

Anna, who I've informed about Sebastian's generosity earlier today, holds up her hands in surrender.

"Alright," she says. "But read it out loud!"

"Hold on," interjects my mom. "Who is this 'he' you girls are talking about? Don't tell me it's General Monroe!"

I blush, which is enough confirmation for my mom, who gives me a strained smil.

"Then continue," she says. I clear my throat.

_Kate,_

_Since I have apparently thusfar avoided scaring you away, it seems to me that we should get to know each other a bit better. How does dinner tomorrow night at seven sound?_

_~Sebastian_

"Oooh!" squeals Anna. "I can't believe-!"

"Wait!" I interrupt. "There's more."

_PS. If you don't respond, I will assume that your answer is yes. If you'd like to reject me, please RSVP to Miles by noon tomorrow._

"Miles?" my mom frowns. "Not Miles Matheson, the one I've heard all the stories about?"

"Oh, my gosh!" explodes Anna in delight. "Kate, he knows you well enough to make it impossible to say no! That's adorable!"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"He knows that you get freaked out by Miles, so he made sure that he was the only person you could talk to if you didn't want to go on the date!"

"What a butt!" I burst out laughing. "Maybe I should reject him for that alone!"

"Noooo!" Anna howls, even though she knows I was joking. "You're so cute together, and this would _finally_ be your first date!"

"I don't know about this," mutter my mom. "I don't like the idea of you getting involved with a man who doesn't give you the choice to meet with him or not."

"Mom, it's fine; he was joking."

"Yeah, c'mon, Mrs. J!" Anna adds. "If Kate actually didn't want to go, she could talk to Monroe herself without problem."

My mother sighs.

"I get that you're an adult now. I know I can't make you do anything, but I'm just asking that you be careful not to get in too deep. He's a dangerous man."

"I'll be fine, Mom. I promise."

...

**One year ago**

I waited as patiently as I could in the Kraylics' kitchen, eavesdropping on the guests. I knew that they were all high-ranking militia members-One of them was even General Monroe himself!-but I was able to squelch these thoughts for the time being. As long as I couldn't see them, they were just ordinary house guests.

A man's laugh drifted toward me. It was lighthearted, pure, something that made time slow down as each moment grew sweeter. I blinked hard, trying to force those thoughts out, but now that I'd heard it my brain kept searching for that one voice.

Mrs. Kraylic came in, startling me, and I followed her out, trying to focus on that voice rather than nerves.

"Come on," it was saying. "I might've screwed up diplomatically, but at least I didn't sleep with President Foster and then act like nothing had happened the next day!"

"Hey!" defended a gruff voice. "I was drunk. We both were! Who expects something like that to last?"

As we entered the living room, I saw a dirty blonde man punch the arm of another man who had shaggy brown hair. Mrs. Kraylic cleared her throat.

"Alright, here's the surprise we'd promised."

"Live music? Nice!"

Those words were spoken in that voice I'd been so enamored with earlier. It belonged to the blonde man, who was staring right at me. His eyes were so blue I expected lightning to flash out of them any second now. We locked eye contact, he with his bright and perfect smile and I with my makeup barely hiding my blush.

Then it was over. The moment passed, I continued with my performance, everyone was happy. By the next morning I was so nervous about the general's offer for me to leave to play in Philadelphia that I completely forgot about the incident.

I had no idea then, of course, that I would begin to remember those feelings a year later.

...

My mom and I spend the morning together. I show her around Philadelphia, and we have an early lunch at a little cafe in the city. Now we walk to the area where Cameron's selling apples so my mom can help out during the busy afternoon.

"Hey," he calls out. "The apples have been selling like crazy all day!"

"That's great," says my mom. "Sorry I haven't been here."

"No problem. Seriously, though, at this rate we could be completely out by tomorrow!"

Even though Cameron is smiling ear to ear, I feel as if he's given us a death sentence. After her wares are gone, my mom won't be able to stay here. Maybe I could keep her for another day or two, but a cot in my room is by no means permanent lodging. Beyond that, my mom would have no career, nothing with which to occupy her days.

"Goodbye, Katie," she says, breaking through my thoughts. "I'll see you tonight, after dinner."

"'Kay. See ya!"

We hug, and I walk home alone. I get there just in time to see Anna hurriedly scarfing down the remainder of her lunch. When she sees me, she jumps up and drags me to my room.

"Okay," she says excitedly. "We don't have much time, so listen closely: We need to find the perfect outfit for your date tonight!"

"Is this really necessary?"

My friend looks at me like I've grown a third eye.

"Of course it is! Something too sexy will say you're trying too hard, but something not sexy enough will say you don't care."

Comparisons of shoe types, skirt lengths, and color combinations spill out of Anna's mouth like waves. I smile and nod, not hearing a word. My mind spins its own web of confusion.

Does he really think of this as a date, or did he actually mean to get to know me as a friend like he'd said? Which option do I _want_ to be true? The though of sticking in the friend zone almost makes me want to cry, but the idea of a real relationship with the man terrifies me more than I'd like to admit, but not for the reasons you're thinking.

Sure, "The Commanding General of the Monroe Militia" has an intimidating ring to it, but over the past few days I've grown used to it. What really makes me nervous is that I've never had a boyfriend before, never even been kissed. I'm young and inexperienced, and I don't want to come off as a little kid putting on her mommy's high heels and trying to be all grown up.

Anna groans as she turns away from my closet.

"Girl, you're impossible! You realize that we won't have time to go shopping, right?"

I frown. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Your only formal wear is black, for starters."

"Black is a nice color!"

"Kate," says Anna, "you are allowed to wear all the black you want, but then you need to have a little something there. I mean, at least a sequin or ruffle or _something_!"

I roll my eyes, and Anna continues berating my wardrobe.

"Okay, from here on out, you are no longer allowed to buy knee-length skirts. You have hot legs-use them! You know what? I'll just write out the descriptions of an outfit I think will work for you, and you just give it to a shopkeeper in town and buy whatever they bring you. No 'but's! Just give me some paper, then I gotta run to make it back before my shift ends."

I throw a notebook in defeat at my friend, who grins wildly. She describes in crazy detail a shirt, skirt, and shoes. Her instructions for my hair simply say "french braid," apparently because she thinks this is the only hairstyle I won't totally butcher.

"Okay," I growl. "Fine."

"Great!" Anna exclaims. She must have thought I'd be harder to convince. "See ya after your date!"

"Yeah, yeah. Adios."

...

The house I was going to live in was huge, bigger than any I'd ever seen before. Then again, I'd grown up in a lower income area, playing in a school band which existed only through money from a local youth opportunities group. I hadn't exactly seen a whole lot of mansions over the years.

After General Monroe had heard me play at the Kraylics' the other night, he and the other officers had insisted that I return to Phili with them to work permanently as a musician. This sort of work had been my dream way before the blackout, so it wasn't exactly a hard choice even without the job security.

Everything inside was extravagant. I hadn't even realized that houses post-blackout still looked like this. There was even a housekeeping staff-cooks and servants and the whole shooting match-dressed in nice black outfits and armed with feather dusters. They ignored me when I came in escorted by Gus, the lower-ranking soldier who'd driven the horse car. I'd been grateful to sit up front with him rather than in the back with General Monroe and his friends on the and here, and now Gus was taking his kindness a step further by giving me a tour.

The walls were white, all of them. The color came completely from the beautiful artwork on the walls. Each floor's hallway had a different theme. Paintings of gorgeous nature scenes on the first, aerials of famous cities on the second. The beauty was endless, and for a minute I felt sick at the sight of it. General Monroe was splurging like this when citizens of the republic were starving?

Eventually, I had no choice but to assume that the paintings were in the house when Monroe had moved in. Any other idea would've make me crazy.

Gus showed me to my room. Again, it was plain white, but I didn't care much. I was shocked by how large it was. Looking back, it was only about the size of my bedroom pre-blackout, but it had been years since I'd had a space to call my own, so it felt like the equivalent of a castle. I set my few possessions on the be so I could unpack after Gus was finished showing me around.

"Listen," Gus explained after he concluded the tour. "I'm getting transferred to another unit next week, and I want you to stay safe. This is a dangerous house full of dangerous people."

"Thanks," I reply with a smile. "But I've gotta know: Why do you care so much?"

"I don't know. I guess you just remind me of my sister. She's a maid here, and I thought that maybe you two could watch each other's backs."

"Yeah, sure. What's her name?"

"Annabelle Archer. Anna, for short."

...

My shirt is plain black with a v-neck which makes me blush but in actuality isn't all that low. The top hugs my body without being skin tight. The skirt is a pretty shade of purple with a single ruffle down one side which Anna calls a tease. I drew the line at the heels my friend described and opted instead for my black ballet flats. My hair, which sets easily, falls in soft waves despite having only sat in a braid for a few short hours.

Seven o'clock on the dot is when I arrive; I couldn't decide whether to be punctually early or fashionably late, so I settle for right in the middle. A thousand thoughts fly through my head at light speed as I knock on the door and wait for endless seconds.

My lipstick is too bright; I must look like a tramp. I'm dressed too nicely. This probably isn't even a date. I wonder what kind of cologne Sebastian is wearing. Anna's probably told the whole house about this by now, and if it doesn't go well I'll have to leave forever in shame. Does he know what kind I food I like? Did he make it himself? Does he even know how to cook? Crap, I forgot to curl my eyelashes! Oh my gosh, the door's opening, this is really happening, what do I say, what if-

"Kate. Wow. Um, I mean...hi."

The general stares at me in complete awe. My face is red as a cherry. He shouldn't be looking at me that way. I'm not much of a sight-he's the one who looks like he should be a male model.

"Ha-I-hi. How's it going?" I'm real smooth.

"Oh, ah...things are going swimmingly."

When I see the "I can't believe I just said that" look on his face, I can't help but giggle. He cracks a smile, and soon we are both laughing at the sheer awkwardness of ourselves, which really only makes it all twice as awkward. I can't believe that I've reduced the commanding general of the militia to the equivalent of a scared high schooler on his first date.

"Will you, uh, will you come in?" asks my date. "I have...um, food."

"Yeah, l-love to," I stammer in reply.

I can't see much because the only illumination in the windowless room comes from two cinnamon-scented candles on a table for two. Yep, this is definitely a date.

Sebastian pulls out a chair for me, and I sit. He then offers me champagne, which I accept more out of politeness than a taste for fine liquor. He vanishes into a dark corner of the room and returns with a plate of some fancy, Italian-looking pasta dish.

Once we are eating, the tension birthed from our awkwardness dies down considerably. Like I've always said, food fixes everything.

"You know," says Sebastian as he washes down a mouthful with the champagne I haven't touched. "I'm sorry for acting so ridiculous. It's just that I've never had a real relationship, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

I frown. "You're kidding, right? You've had how many women over here?"

It's hard to tell in the light, but I swear he's blushing.

"Well," he stammers, "I haven't, you know, cared about any of them like this. The closest I've ever been to feeling like this about someone was when I slept with Miles' girlfriend in high school."

"You didn't!"

"Yes, I'm ashamed."

I laugh at him, and cracks a smile despite his embarrassment.

I think about it for a minute, and then ask, "And that's the only reason?"

"Okay," he admits. "I also wasn't expecting...never mind."

"What?" I insist as he stares at the ground. "C'mon, now that you've mentioned there being something else, you've gotta tell me the other reason."

"It's just-I mean, well, you always look beautiful. Sexy, on the other hand, I wasn't expecting, and it threw me for a loop."

I crumple up my napkin and throw it at him. The ball of cloth hits him square in the chest.

"Don't even," I laugh. "When you try that hard to act vulnerable while you flatter me, it just comes out as insulting."

"What? How on earth did I insult you?"

"Really, Sebastian? You're such a guy!"

He opens his mouth to defend himself and his fellow males, then slowly shuts it. A smile teases and tugs on his lips, though he tries to hide it.

"What?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"I guess I didn't imagine it the other day. You've finally cracked that stubborn little shell of yours."

"What the wipes are you talking about?"

He explains, "You finally started using my first name."

I frown, then slowly turn it upside-down.

"Yeah," I say. "I guess you're right."

"I'll bet it feels a whole lot better than 'sir'."

"No kidding. Anna will have a field day."

"Why?" he questions. "Does she not like me or something?"

"On the contrary."

I proceed to explain to Sebastian about how Anna has mockingly been rooting for us from the start, and confirms that the same has been true of Miles.

"No way!" I counter. "He thinks I'm a scardy-cat!"

"Only a little," insists Sebastian. "He's decided that you might help balance out my more stupid moments of rash bravery."

"Maybe we should get Miles and Anna together. Give them a taste of their own medicine."

The idea of an Archer-Matheson relationship is so ludicrous that that we both laugh 'til we cry.

As our conversation winds down into a somewhat more somber mood, my mind wanders, and Sebastian notices it.

"What's wrong, Kate?"

I shrug. "I'm fine."

"No you're not." He already knows me too well to believe that lie.

"It's just..." I start, not sure how to phrase it. Sebastian waits with a supportive patience. "I dunno. I guess I just wish i could have days like today all the time."

"Meaning...?"

"My mom's going to leave in a few days, and we only just got reunited after all these years. I'm gonna miss her."

He frowns. "Who said she has to leave?"

"Sebastian," I say. "Be realistic. She has no job, no real place to stay. It's time to make up and smell the pudding. My mom has to leave."

He doesn't speak for a minute, and neither do I.

"Kate," says Sebastian after the pause. "What if I could work out the problems to keep your mother here?"

I stare at him in wonder. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course. You are my whole world."

In no time at all the food is gone and the hour is late. I have already stayed much longer than I should have. Sebastian offers to walk me back to my room when the date draws to a close.

"No, that's okay," I promise. "I think I'll be able to withstand the many dangers of the hallway."

I turn to leave only to find Sebastian's arms snaking seductively around my waist.

"What, are you embarrassed to be seen with me?" he asks.

"Um, yeah!" I state. "You smell funny!"

"True." He releases me from the hug. "But you have to at least let me say a proper goodbye for the night. Please? Consider it a final farewell in case you perish in the big, scary hallway."

I smile and turn back toward him. "Goodbye, Sebastian."

He places a hand on my cheek. "Goodbye, Kate."

His eyes close, and he leans toward me, and I react to his movements like being with Sebastian is what I was born to do. Our lips meet softly in a moment of pure perfection, and when he takes a step back my whole body is tingling. The feel of his mouth on mine stays with me as I float down the hallway back to my room.

If this were a novel, right now is when some horrible plot twist would come and ruin everything. But it's not a book. This is real. I get to be happy, replaying my first date in my head as the sound of my mother snoring in the cot next to me lulls me to sleep. I wouldn't give up this feeling for all the money in the world.


	6. Bleh

So, I was all geared up to post a chapter today, but after spending over an hour on a couple hundred words I gave up. See, my computer keeps deleting stuff as I write it. (Even this little post is taking an obscenely long amount of time.) Anyway, sorry that technology sucks. :( I'll try again tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 6

"Goodbye, Katie. I'll see you after work."

"Mm-mm, bye."

My mom leaves, and I close my eyes again. I was with Sebastian much later than I'd thought last night, and now I'm paying the Piper. Just when I start to fall back asleep, Anna comes into my room and belly-flops onto my exhausted body.

"Wakey, wakey!" she sings. "Time to tell me 'bout your datey, datey!"

"Anna, gerroff!" I mumble. She sits up, and I push hair out of my face. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"It's Thursday, girl. My day off!"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Can I go back to sleep now?"

She laughs maliciously. She responds, "Yeesh! How can you be this tired? I slept in, and I've already eaten breakfast. What were you doing last night?"

"Anna!" I shriek. "Shut up!"

"Only if you give me every dirty detail!"

"Okay, first of all: The details aren't that dirty. And secondly: Can you at least let me sit up?"

She concedes, and I surrender each precious moment from last night. I can't help but smile as the memories refill my head. Could that really have been real? it literally seems too good to be true. I sigh in contentment.

"Aww," Anna coos. "You guys are _so cute_! And I mean everything-the awkwardness, the flirting. That kiss! And seriously, I can't even imagine Monroe of all people stuttering and acting all nervous! You have such an effect on him. It's adorable!"

I laugh, and she thwacks me in the head. I shove her off the bed in return. My mom comes in to find us cracking up.

"Mom?" Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Cameron didn't need me. We're almost out of apples." She smiles. "What were you girls laughing about?"

"Nothing!" I say as Anna exclaims:

"Kate's luuv life!"

My mom raises an eyebrow, and I give her a hurried explanation, trying to leave out as many details as possible just because she's my mom and it's weird. She seems uncomfortable enough from my little synopsis as is. I notice her fingering a small sack and ask what's inside.

"Oh, just some essentials I'd forgotten in our luggage," she responds offhandedly. "A toothbrush and such."

She doesn't meet my eyes when she says this.

"Sounds good to me," I say, not really caring. Then, out of nowhere, a memory slaps me in the face.

"Mom!" I exclaim.

"What?" She jumps. "Are you okay?"

"The most amazing thing happened last night!" You'll never believe it!"

I tell her what Sebastian said about her staying in Philadelphia, and my mom's mouth drops open in surprise.

"That-that's great!" she says. "Oh, my-yes! Of course I'd love to stay with you!"

...

Melissa Jefferson wants to tell her daughter everything. The girl is in too deep with the general-she deserves to know! Of course that isn't possible, though; Kate would never keep the secret.

Fingering her sack of "supplies," Melissa barely listens as Kate explains her first date with bright eyes. This should be a great mother-daughter milestone, but Melissa's mind keeps wandering back to her deadly package.

The gun had come so much sooner than she'd though. How Cameron had managed it so quickly was anyone's guess. Either way, it means that time is running out.

"Mom!" Kate suddenly cries out.

"What?" Melissa responds, heart beating faster by the second. Does she know? How did she find out?

_Keep it cool,_ she mentally chastises. "Are you okay?"

"The most amazing thing happened last night! Sebastian said you can stay here, and he'll find you work, a place to sleep, whatever you need!"

"That-that's great!"

No, it isn't. If Melissa stays here like Cameron had suggested, it will maybe be the rebels' only shot at victory, the only way they could possibly take out Monroe and bring back the US. This should be the best news Melissa has ever heard, but she keeps thinking about her daughter.

Kate would be devastated if the general were to die. Her mother could see that much in the way Kate lit up when she described her date.

Melissa needs to make a decision-the rebels or her daughter. No matter what she chooses, though, one thing is for sure:

"Oh, my-yes! Of course I'd like to stay with you!"

Kate's eyes glow with joy, never the wiser, and Anna brings up the idea of going out to celebrate. Melissa takes a deep breath of air when the group heads outside, and looks up into the open sky. She's never felt more trapped.

...

"Cheers!" shouts Anna, and we all clink our glasses together. Her, my mom, and I are actually drinking lemonade at the little cafe a block away from the mansion, not liquor. Our celebratory tactics scream of a couple teenagers and a mom, but we're having fun all the same.

"Hey, Katie," says my mom.

"Yeah?" I reply when she doesn't continue.

"I-I need to tell you something. I haven't been completely honest lately, but I'm going to try to make that right. You see-"

She stops mid sentence when an older militia member comes up to our table and asks to sit down. We all nod awkwardly at this unexpected intrusion, who Anna remembers as Officer Blackwell.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he says. We each mumble a response, and the man turns to me. "Katherine Jefferson, right?"

"Um, yes. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that Sebastian sent you to tell me something?"

Officer Blackwell smiles.

"Very good. Yes, the general can't easily come out himself, especially if he's going to take the evening off. Too much work, you see."

"Evening off?" Anna raises her eyebrows at me. "Again?"

"That's right," our guest explains. "Though he's asked me to assure you that he will not take up every one of your free evenings in the future."

"Not that Kate would mind if he did!"

I roll my eyes at Anna. "You do realize that I'm capable of speaking, right?"

"Yeah, but it generally saves us all time and pain when I do it for you."

"Hey!"

"Girls," interjects my mom. "I believe this man has more to say, and he's probably missing work to tell you this, so be polite and listen."

Anna and I exchange a look that my mother thankfully misses but Officer Blackwell sees. He feins a cough to cover his laughter pretty well. The three of us are all thinking the same thing: Aren't i a little old to get told off by my mom like that?

"Thanks, Officer," I say, trying not to smile too much as I wonder what Sebastian has planned.

"Not a problem. Good afternoon, ladies."

"Goodbye."

Once he's gone, Anna drags my mom and me out to go shopping. Because, of course, none of my clothes count as suitable casual date wear. (Jeans and a T-shirt apparently won't cut it, although I thought it was a good idea.)

"How are y'all doin' today?" asks the southern-sounding saleslady. We tell her that we're fine, and no, we do not need her help, but thanks anyway. Anna would be able to put this saleslady out of business, anyway.

"Try this, look at that, buy these!"

A steady stream of peer pressure tumbles out of my friend's mouth. Eventually she forces me to get a pretty yellow halter top with orange beading. I am allowed to simply borrow a pair of Anna's cutoffs to clothe my lower half, but only if I buy the bangles she holds up. I want to grab a sweatshirt in case we're out too long after dark, but my friend claims that it would ruin a perfectly good opportunity for cuddling.

"That's hardly necessary," insists my mom, but Anna won't listen to any voice of reason.

"The second date is huge!" she says. "You are past some of that first date awkwardness, but you still don't know each other hardly at all. This is the date where you really get together and talk about your interests and stuff."

"Cool," I respond. "Can we go home now? I still need to take a bath, eat dinner..."

"Do your hair and makeup," Anna adds.

"Sure. Wait, makeup? This is a casual date. Why do I need to wear makeup?"

Anna sighs. "_Because_ it's fun!"

"Not for me," I grumble.

"Shut up. I'm living vicariously though your relationship whether you like it or not!"

I roll my eyes at her and, just when I'm not watching where I'm walking, run right into something. Or, by the way it gasps, some_one_.

"I'm so sorry!" says some guy as he stoops down to pick up my dropped jewelry.

"Oh, that's okay. It was my fault, anyway," I explain as I bend over to help him. Our hands touch as we both reach for the same bracelet, and he smiles at me to reveal a set of startlingly white teeth.

"You know," he starts, "there's this big thing tonight, and it's customary to bring a date."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow at Anna. "You think that's where Sebastian is taking me?"

The guy frowns. "You already have a date?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason," he sighs. "See you around."

As he walks away, my mom and my friend both look like they're trying not to laugh.

"What?" I ask. "What's so funny?"

"Come on," says Anna. "Don't tell me you seriously didn't know that he was hitting on you?"

"Me? No way! Before this week, I've been totally invisible to guys!"

"Well, that was then and this is now."

"Okay, girls," interrupts my mom. "Subject change: What is this 'big thing' he mentioned?"

"I think I know," grins Anna. "But no way am I telling!"

"Really? No fair!"

"Yeah, sucks to be you." Anna smiles. "Don't tell me you don't like a good surprise?"

"Actually, I hate surprises, and you know it!"

...

I stand outside the little cafe we were at earlier, watching the sun sink in the sky. The breeze is surprisingly chilly, and I wonder if Anna will get her wish about the whole "cuddle time" thing.

I can't help but start to get a little worried. Sebastian is late. He said _before_ sunset, and the sky is starting to turn pink. He can't have forgotten, right? I'm sure there's a perfectly legitimate reason.

Still, he'd better hurry that legitimate reason the poop up. A guy in a baseball cap and glasses is walking toward me, trying to make eye contact. I stare off to his right, trying not to look him in the eye. Don't get me wrong, the nerdy cute thing is totally working for him, but I have my own date.

"Hey," says the guy. I stop and stare at him for a minute. No way. Just no way.

"Sebastian?"

"Might I just say, Kate, that you look absolutely stunning tonight."

I want to blush at the compliment, but there's something that I just can't ignore.

"You-you're wearing...a disguise?"

"I can explain."

"Start talking."

Of course, when I say this in a threatening tone, I can't help but smile.

"The thing is," says Sebastian, "I'm pretty sure that our relationship will consist mainly of romantic dinners like last night, which are really amazing and all, but I wanted to take you out at least this once."

"You didn't answer my question."

He grins. "A lot of younger soldiers like to bring dates along, and I thought it might be a little bit more fun for you if we weren't being constantly stared at. I know it's not much, but we shouldn't run into any officers who know me well enough to see through what I'm wearing."

"Nice." I smile. "So where exactly are you taking me?"

"But Anna told me you hated surprises, and I couldn't pass up an opportunity to torture you!"

My mouths drops open. "When were you talking to Anna?"

"This morning." He smirks. "You're the one who slept in on your friend's day off. That made it pretty easy to talk to her discreetly."

I think back to how Officer Blackwell had known exactly where to find us-in the cafe Anna had suggested-and how my friend had picked out my outfit in record time, almost like she'd been thinking about it all day.

_I think I know,_ sings Anna in my head.

"I'm gonna kill her."

"Aww, don't do that," insists Sebastian. "Who else will stick around with you?"

I smack him, and we start to walk toward this surprise, continuing a steady stream of wonderful banter. I'm glad we're both feeling more confident tonight. I don't know what I would have done with a repeat of last night's discomfort.

The farther we walk, the more people we see. Eventually we end up in a crowded field. Sebastian leads me to an area with a spread-out blanket which he apparently set up earlier. We sit down on it, and Sebastian wraps his arm around my shoulders tightly. I lean into his embrace, and it feels so insanely good and sweet and warm. I want to melt into him, to never stop touching him.

His T-shirt smells like his cologne, which I've never smelt so close and strongly. The cotton is so, so soft. I rub my face in it, inhaling as much of Sebastian's scent as possible. The top of my back, above where my shirt reaches, tingles from the direct contact with the skin of his arm. This is so unimaginably perfect.

I wonder if Anna and Sebastian pre-arranged this cuddle time. Maybe I won't kill Anna.

"You know," whispers Sebastian in to my hair. his breath tickles the top of my head. "We might have a better view if we lay down."

I don't believe it for a second, but the idea sounds so good that I can't bring myself to question him. We tip backwards, and he pulls me until my head is resting on his chest like it's a pillow. One of his arms lies draped across my stomach in a protective and endearing embrace, and his other hand gently caresses my hair and face. As he breathes in and out, I can feel his chest rise and fall slowly under my head.

The sun falls below the horizon; Sebastian plays with my hair. Everything about this night is amazing.

Until the sky erupts in a fiery explosion.


	8. Chapter 7

I scream and try to get up and run for cover, but Sebastian laughs and holds me back. The fire in the sky burns out, and I take a minute to think. Wait. I've seen this before.

"Fireworks?" I shout. "They still make those!?"

Sebastian's laughter is hidden by the booms echoing across the open land, but I can feel him shaking. I jam my elbow back into him and loudly explain that I haven't seen fireworks since I was twelve.

He yells in reply, "C'mon! Your reaction was priceless!"

I let it go because the show is so beautiful. Brilliant colors and dazzling lights cascade down to Earth in shimmering radiance. This is even better than electricity.

Though I keep flinching because it feels like the glowing embers are going to rain down on my head, I'm happy that Sebastian thought to bring me here. The spectacle is gorgeous and the mix of the cool breeze and the warmth from Sebastian feels better than anything in the world.

This display lasts maybe fifteen minutes. I lay on Sebastian for awhile afterwards, procrastinating, but soon we are in danger of getting stepped on. We slowly stand up and roll up the blanket. Sebastian holds it under one arm and uses his free hand to grab mine. After a few minutes of fighting the crowd, less and less people are ground as everyone begins to go their separate ways. We're almost home when someone comes up to us.

"Hey, I know you!"

It's that guy from the clothing store earlier, the one who I ran into. his bright white smile is crooked, and any yahoo could tell he's drunk.

"Oh, uh, hi," I say, trying not to look at Sebastian so I don't have to see his facial expression. "You're that one dude, um...?"

"Mah name's Luke," he slurs. "Ah missed you!" He throws an arm around my shoulders suddenly. "An' I forgive you frr rejectin' me earlier. I like dah chase."

I shove him off of me, and in an instant Sebastian is standing in front of me protectively.

The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion. Luke takes a step forward, and Sebastian's arm pulls back, his fingers tightening into a fist. Time pauses for one long link of an eye, then before I know it Luke's sprawled out on the ground, unconscious.

Everybody on the street is staring, and I'm pissed. Yeah, yeah: He's a gentleman for defending my honor, etc. But he's the one who made the law about not starting a brawl in the streets! And, since the other guy's unconscious, Sebastian will automatically take the blame. Sure, they'll release him once they realize who it is, but once word gets our that even the general himself is breaking the stricter laws, some people will start to think that they can get away with anything. Yes, some current laws aren't fun, but at least there's order. People have stopped slaughtering their friends for a loaf of bread.

Just like I'd suspected, a militia soldier is soon behind Sebastian, grabbing him roughly. He tries to pull away, spitting:

"Hey! Don't you know who-"

"Shut up," says Miles in a bored tone. "You have the right to remain an idiot, bla, bla, bla. Come with me."

That fact that his best friend is arresting him stuns Sebastian into silence, and they walk toward the mansion. I sigh, wishing I didn't have to walk home alone.

...

"Miles, don't you-"

"Shut up, Bass. You're just lucky I was having a beer on the front porch when your little episode took place."

Miles paces around his brother's room, enraged and disappointed.

"You know how people would react to knowing you've been getting into fistfights with drunks? They'd see you as weak, unfit to rule. They would just maybe try to put someone else in your place. And you wouldn't have much support from the inside if people thought you were losing it. Get a grip, or kiss your republic goodbye."

Sebastian Monroe hangs his head in shame. The silence in the room is unbearably heavy. The callous speech, though, deserved, stings.

"You're right," he says quietly. "I can't believe I lost it like that. It's just...that jerk was making Kate uncomfortable, so I-"

"So you felt that you had to get involved. Defend your girl's honor and all that. Bass, she will let that sort of stuff go. She's smart enough to ignore a few dumb comments. I guess I can't say the same for you."

"You're right. Like always. I can't believe I was so stupid!"

"Don't worry about it, dude. We will always be brothers, and that means I will always have your back."

Miles pats his friend on the back, and Bass smiles gratefully in return. Miles could be a moron sometimes, but, as proved tonight, so could Bass. It didn't matter as long as they were there for each other when it was truly important.

"I appreciate it," says Bass. "Man, the things we do for love, right?"

Miles raises an eyebrow.

"What?" asks Bass.

"You just said the 'l' word, didn't you?"

Before Bass can explain himself, there's a miracle in the form of a knock on the door.

...

Miles opens the door to Sebastian's room after I knock, then motions me in. Sebastian says goodbye to Miles, who leaves.

"Sorry," I say. "Was I interrupting something? I can leave if-"

"No," insists Sebastian. "He and I were just finishing our conversation."

There's a pause before he speaks again.

"Listen, Kate-"

"I get it." He stops talking. I shake my head. "You wanted to help me. Sure, a part of me is flattered, but I also know how stupid that was. Sebastian, what were you thinking?"

"Don't worry. Miles already me the riot act."

My lips are pulled into a smile against my will.

"Miles Matheson, being responsible? I can't believe I missed it!"

The tension dissolves, just like that.

"Now, now," smirks Sebastian. "Miles can be responsible. Like last year, when he didn't hire a stripper for my surprise birthday party, even though he really, _really_ wanted to."

"You're so mean to your poor friend!" I giggle. "Does he know how much you gossip about him?"

"Eh."

"Good comeback. I'm jealous."

"As you should be."

We hold a fake glare for nearly ten seconds-which is really impressive considering how hard we're trying not to laugh-before we completely lose it. It's late enough that we're both in that weird stage of tiredness where anything, especially actual humor, is ridiculous. We crack up, doubling over and gasping for air. Sebastian puts a hand on my shoulder to steer me, and we stumble toward his bed to sit down because we won't be able to stand up much longer in this exhausted hysteria.

"Okay," I giggle. That's two giggles and a laughing fit all withing ten minutes. Yikes. "We're clearly tired. Maybe I should go before-"

"No!" pleads Sebastian, grabbing my arm as I stand up. "Please. This month is going to be crazy, and we won't see each other for a few weeks!"

"A few weeks?" The chaotic happy mood is gone. His eyes grow wide, like he's said something he didn't want to, and I furrow my eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I wanted to tell you when we were having a more intimate, romantic moment, but then I didn't want to ruin it."

"What do you mean?" He stares down into his lap. "Sebastian, you can tell me. I won't be mad at...whatever this is."

"No, of course you'll be smart about this." He smiles in gratitude. "I shouldn't have been so worried. You of all people would understand. This morning I was informed by intell in the Plains Nation that there's been some minor border disputes. Nothing our troops haven't taken care of, but it would be a waste of lives to keep fighting instead of trying to get them to back off diplomatically."

"But, wait," I say, not sure how to process this. "Why do you personally have to go? Can't someone else do it?"

I'm probably whining like a three-year-old right now, so I try to dial it down a little.

"I mean," I add, "you're so important. Isn't this kind of risky for the leader of the nation?"

He wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"Hey," he says. "Don't worry about it. I'm going to be fine. I need to be there to discuss the issue with Governor Williams because it's a sign of respect. But I promise that the border disputes aren't as dangerous as they sound. I'll be with an armed guard, and I've already sent a messenger to the Plains Nation. I'll be there as his guest."

"And if things go sour?"

"This have gone sour before. I'll be alright."

"Will you?" I ask. "What if your luck runs out?"

He runs a hand through my hair. "I _will_ come back alive. You know why? Because nothing can separate two people who love each other."

I open my mouth to retort, but then something dawns on me. "Say that again."

"What?" Sebastian asks. "That I'll come back alive?"

"No. That you love me."

His smile takes up his entire face as he chuckles softly.

"I love you."

I throw my arms around him in a hug, and when I pull away Sebastian cups my face in his hands. He leans toward me, and our lips meet. It's different than our last kiss, but just as good. If not better.

I wrap my arms around his neck, and he tangles his hands in my hair. We move closer to each other as we kiss, and it feels so good, and I'm barely aware of what's happening because it's that amazing, and then the breathing is heavier and the hands are trailing and we're horizontal and-

"Wait!" I gasp, jerking my head back. "Just wait."

Sebastian stops for a minute, blinking in confusion, and then sits up. I readjust my top and prop myself up on one elbow.

"What's wrong?" asks Sebastian.

"I-I-" I can't believe I'm doing this. I should shut up, should quit while I'm ahead. I can't do this. But I can't just not do anything because now he's just sitting there confused and I don't know what's happening and what's wrong with me?

"I'm not ready!" I blurt. I fall backwards and put a pillow over my face so he won't see my eyes fill with tears. I'm such a wuss. He's going away on a dangerous journey, and he just admitted that he loves me, and I'm too chicken to do this one little thing.

"Kate."

I don't respond. This is so embarrassing.

"Kate," repeats Sebastian gently. "Come out from behind the pillow so we can talk."

I'm trying so hard not to cry right now.

"Please, Kate. It's not like I'm mad at you."

"That's not what I'm worried about," I mumble into the pillow.

"I can't hear you under there."

"I said that's not what I'm afraid of!" I shout, throwing the pillow across the room. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm twenty years old but I act like I'm fifteen most of the time, and you're a mature military general! You do nothing but shower me with amazing dates and compliments and act all amazing! And I can't even give you this one little thing even though I love you! What's wrong with me?"

"Hey."

I ignore him.

"Kate, is that really what you think?"

"Can we not talk about this?" I've stopped even trying to hold back the tears. "I just want to go back to my room."

"Come on," says Sebastian, taking my hand in his. "You weren't ready. Big deal. This is only our second date. That doesn't mean you're immature. It means _I'm_ trashy."

I snort, not sure whether to laugh or to cry now. "Did you just seriously make me feel better?"

He responds, "Well, the only more douche-y move than pressuring you to sleep with me would be sitting here, letting you cry."

"Point taken."

We both smile.

"Thanks, Sebastian. You're so perfect."

"Me?" He smirks. "You weren't upset about my earth-shattering news, but I'm supposed to freak out because you have a mind of your own?"

"Okay, fine. I surrender. It does sound more ridiculous when you say it out loud."

"I told you so," says Sebastian. "Don't worry about it. And by the way, I don't see you as immature even a little bit. I think it's kinda sweet that you felt uncomfortable. You're so pure."

I raise my eyebrows. "Wow. Are all guys this awesome? Boy, have I been missing out!"

"No. Actually, even I never have been quite this...well, romantic. I don't actually treat all girls the way I've been treating you. I mean, I'm not, like, abusive or anything, but I've never tried this hard to make someone feel truly special. You, on the other hand, give me a reason to be better. I've been working harder, acting kinder. To be honest, I've been pretty jaded for awhile now, since even before the blackout. I felt like the world was out to get me, so I set out to get the world, and still none of that mattered.

"Kate, you brought a light into my life that I never even knew I was missing. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are my reason to not only stay alive, but to _live_ to the fullest. You're different than anyone else I've ever known. Your eyes sparkle when you make a joke. Your laughter is so contagious that it's not even fair. The way you always wear your hair down, even when it's hot out. The way you forgive me so easily even when I completely mess up. Your intoxicating beauty.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you. We only just started to get to know each other a few days ago, but I'm already completely and irrevocably in love with you. I noticed you in the year you've worked here, and as I tried to ignore you while I constantly had to remind myself that you were only a member as the staff, I couldn't do anything but plan ways to meet up. Then I met you, really got to know you, and I was that much more head over heels. Life without you, even a few minutes without you, feels like a fate worse than death.

"You will never realize just how important you are to me. I hope that I can do my best to express my intense love for you, though such strong feelings will be nearly impossible to show. Well, Kate, now I'm starting to beat around the bush. I-I've never actually been so open with someone. This is something I've never had the courage to ask someone, but my feelings for you make me realize that nothing is too hard to not be worth it. I guess what I'm trying to say is:

"Will you marry me?"


	9. Chapter 8

x

AN: I am SOOOOOO SOORRYYY that it's taken me so long to update. The worst part? I don't even have a good reason. I just got caught up in freaking out over my first year of college (which has so far been surprisingly anticlimactic compared to what I was expecting) that I forgot to keep the story going. Yeah. Anyway, I will try to be a little more consistent in the future. This chapter's kinda serious, but it has it's funny moments. Hope it's worth the wait! (And sorry again!)

Anna's eyes stare dully out into the distance, her mouth frozen in a perpetual "o". This is it. I've gone too far; I've broken her. I took her mind and shattered it with my proverbial sledge hammer.

Still, she ought to be beside herself with joy once she breaks out of the shock coma. Which should be in three, two...

"No way," she whispers. Then she repeats herself, growing louder until my eardrums are about to burst. "No way, no way, no way, no way!"

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction."

_"Will you marry me?"_

_I closed my mouth after I'd processed what he was saying, only just then realizing it had dropped open. This was too much, too soon; I wasn't ready. Heck, I wasn't even the pre-blackout drinking age! I had to turn him down gently, tell him to ask again in a few years._

_But then I was crying and accepting his proposal. My brain went on autopilot and said the right words before I could be stupid enough to say no._

"Oh, my gosh!" squeals Anna. She bounces giddily on the bed, almost knocking over the candle on her nightstand.

"Shh!" I hiss. "You'll wake up the whole house!"

"I don't care!" she says. "My best friend is engaged! How can I do anything _but_ scream?"

"Thanks, Anna," I grin. I was right to have rushed over here as soon as I'd said goodnight to Sebastian.

"Okay, detail time," demands my friend. She 'ooh's and 'aww's at all the right moments, even smacking her forehead when I mention the fight after the fireworks, and then protesting Sebastian's trip to the Plains Nation so hard that I'm almost convinced it's _her_ love life at stake.

Finally, when I'm done explaining and the content sighs have ceased, Anna starts bouncing and fidgeting like she knows something I don't. She stares at me with hopeful eyes and a giddy smile. I'm starting to get a little freaked out.

"What?" I ask.

"Hmm?" She won't give away any information voluntarily.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Well," she giggles, "I know you're you, so you probably haven't thought about this yet-"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Anyway," Anna continues. "Have you thought about who you want your maid of honor to be? Since you don't have any sisters, it will have to just be a really good friend."

She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

"Of course, Anna. Who else?"

She squeals. "This is so great! I can help you pick out your dress and jewelry, and I promise your bachelorette party will be _amazing!"_

The words fall on me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, my gosh," I moan. "This is too much."

"Kate? Are you okay? Did I say something?"

"I can't do this."

I'm breathing faster and harder, and I try to utilize some calming techniques to avoid hyperventilating, but I can't I can't can't can't. Anna is shaking me and saying something I can't quite hear can't hear at all because a rushing sound fills my ears.

"I can't do this!" I burst out. The words tumble out of my mouth at warp speed, relieving some of the pressure in my chest. "I'm not ready to be having a bachelorette party or pick out a wedding dress or-or any of that! And I sure as heck am not ready to be somebody's _wife_!"

I put my head between my knees as another thought hits me.

"Oh, oh, Anna, what if I become _pregnant_? What if I'm a full-blown wife and mother in just a couple of years?! I can't do that! What am I supposed to do?"

"Shh," sooths Anna as I burst into tears. She hugs me tight and, as embarrassing as it is to admit, that simple act makes everything hurt a little less. "Okay, Kate. I'm gonna talk you through this, alright?"

I nod mutely and she looks me in the eye when she continues.

"Can you answer one little question? Just pretend that our entire conversation didn't even happen for a minute. Can you give me your reasons for saying 'yes' in the first place?"

I close my eyes hard while I force thoughts of the future out of my head. Instead, I imagine Sebastian's face. His forgiving smile when I broke that picture frame what seems like a century ago, his eyes and how they seemed aflame when the candle light reflected in them during our first date. The way his lips feel, full of the gentle strength of restrained passion, every time we kiss.

"Because I love him," I answer softly. "Because when I'm with Sebastian, nothing can hurt me. When we're together, I feel so safe and free and happy and...alive."

Anna smiles, and so do I.

"Good thing I got those pre-wedding jitters out of the way early, huh?" I joke. Anna shoves me as she laughs.

"Girl, you almost gave me a heart attack!" she scolds. "I thought you might actually let your brain get in the way of one of the only cases of true love I've ever seen!"

"Sorry," I say. "No more thinking for me."

"Trust me. The world will be a safer place."

"Hey! Not cool!"

"I'm sorry, sugar-booger," taunts my friend, "but you're old enough that I don't have to lie to you anymore."

"Put a muzzle on it, you big jerk! Hey, I have to head back and get some sleep, or when my mom sees how tired I am tomorrow she'll think Sebastian and I, you know, _celebrated_."

"Did you?"

"Anna!"

"Kidding. See ya tomorrow, then."

"'Night."

I stumble back through the dark halls, miraculously not waking anyone up with my elephantine stomping. To my surprise, my mother is still up, reading by light from an oil lamp, when I get back to my room.

"Mom? You're still awake?"

"Yes," she replies tersely. "As are you."

"I stopped by Anna's room to tell her about my date," I explain. "Is something wrong?"

She furrows her eyebrows.

"Anna, hm?" she asks. "Is that really _all_ you did? Must have been quite the conversation."

"Well, Sebastian and I talked for a while after we got back from fireworks," I add as calmly as I can. My mother scoffs, and I narrow my eyes.

"What?" I spit. "If you have something to say, go ahead and say it."

"Excuse me?!" Her tone is full of malice. "I am your _mother_. I have every right to be angry if you are having sexual affairs with that old pervert!"

"Mom!" I gasp. "What is _wrong_ with you?!"

She opens her mouth to protest the offence, but I cut her off:

"No. Don't you dare try to defend yourself. First you call your own daughter a liar, then you start saying terrible things about the man she loves. What kind of person, let alone _mother, _would do that? I want you gone! I was stupid to think we could actually have a relationship. I should have known long ago that my mom was never coming back, but I was dumb enough to let you get my hopes up!"

"That is enough!" Her eyes shine with a dark fire not unlike that of the madmen driven wild with hunger, to the point where they would stop a family on the road to eat out their insides. "I am sorry that I lost my temper, but that gives you no right to speak to me that way. As your parent I am allowed to be concerned about your moral judgment, or lack thereof. But no, I apologize for stepping on your fragile emotions."

"My fra-"

"Grow up!" she explodes.

I blink. "What"

"You keep insisting over and over again that you are in love with the general, that you will be just fine and won't be in danger of getting hurt with an older, powerful man. Then you have a hissy fit every time you encounter one little obstacle or have to take a single offence. If you don't want me to act so angry every time you two are intimate, then maybe you should stop acting like a child!"

The words sting, more than words ever should. It's like she knew exactly where to drive the iron so it would stick the places where I was already insecure about my relationship. Mix that with the fact she's insulting both me and a person I love, and you have a brilliant recipe for pain.

My anger is nearly wiped out. Other than straight up crying, all I can manage is a dull, lifeless facial expression. If I really reveal how my mom made me feel, no way will I ever stop hurting.

"Fine." My voice struggles to hide the confusing concoction stirring within. "Since I'm not a child, I guess I no longer need my mother. When Cameron heads back to the orchard tomorrow, you can go with him. Goodbye."

My voice cracks on the last word, and I turn away to hide the tears welling up in my eyes. I begin to leave, but I pause on the threshold, turning to look at my mother one last time.

"Sebastian asked me to marry him," I say. "That's why Anna and I talked for so long."

I walk down the dark hallway without another word.

...

Two Years After Blackout

"Dad. Dad, please don't."

He didn't respond. I blinked tears out of my eyes, dug my nails into his arm to make him listen.

"Daddy, please stay. Please don't leave me alone."

My words fell on deaf ears; he was already gone.

I turned away and closed my eyes tightly. This was not the time to cry. My dad wouldn't be able to protect me anymore, so I couldn't afford to be weak. If my mom was alive, then maybe things would be better. But she had died in a plane crash, and now I had to learn to survive without anyone else's help.

It took me three hours to dig my father's grave. I didn't stop, no matter how tired I became, because as long as I had something to do I didn't need to think.

Three weeks later, I was still in that house. I continued splitting wood for the rapidly approaching winter, moving from saplings to larger and larger trees as my arms grew stronger. That task-along with gathering food, finding and purifying water, and washing my clothes in the river-kept my mind off of my loneliness. I only began to wish for company when I split open my palm and knew I wouldn't be able to chop wood or use my bow for a few days.

That night, raiders came an hour after dark.

Torchlight passed over my head as I cowered behind the couch. I could hear my precious matches, irreplaceable dishes, and hard-earned food being dumped carelessly into burlap sacks, and I could feel the life slowly drain out of me. Why was I even bothering to hide? Even if they didn't find me, I'd soon be dead anyway with my hand too jacked up to work.

I didn't have very long to contemplate the decision of starving versus being shot. One minute my legs were cramping up from my crouched position, and the next a hand was entangling itself in my hair as one of the robbers yanked me out of my hiding spot.

"Look what I found," chuckled a man. The rest of the other thieves guffawed sickeningly.

Survival mode overtook me. My eyes flit around the room, searching, until a memory struck me. When I'd purchased my flute, I'd thought I was the coolest person in the world because the case was metallic rather than the standard black plastic. It as still on the coffee table,, where I'd left it after playing soft music to comfort my father when he'd been sick.

The laughing bandit had loosened his grip enough that I could jerk away. I only had seconds before I was ensnared again, so I lurched toward my instrument. My fingers clenched around the handle and I whirled around. The case collided with my attacker's face, and he fell to the ground. One of the other thieves knelt down to help him, while the third and final marauder turned to me.

Without letting myself stop to think, I sprinted toward the nearest doorway, into the kitchen. I dropped my flute along the way to run faster, but the robber was closing in on me quickly. I looked sideways, and I reached for a knife I'd cut meat with earlier without pausing for thought. All of a sudden, the handle was sticking out of my pursuer's chest, and the other two men were fleeing the scene.

That night I vomited and cried over what I'd done. The next morning I dragged the body to the river and then continued business as usual.

...

I awake to Agatha, the head cook, slapping me in the face with a raw chicken breast.

"Get up!" she demands. "If you don't clean your face, you will get the bird flu!"

Though I'm pretty sure my disease will be something more along the lines of, like, salmonella, I decide it will still be a good idea to take Agatha's advice.

My back is insanely sore from sleeping hunched over a table after I stormed out on my mom. I never feel completely clean after I sleep somewhere other than a bed, so it's kinda nice to have an excuse to splash cold water from the wash basin in my face. The relief only lasts so long, though, because suddenly everyone in the kitchen goes silent and I feel obligated to see what's happening.

"Kate! There you are. I've been looking all over for you!"

Every eye in the kitchen stares in shock as Sebastian comes over to me and kisses me full on the lips. It feels as amazing as always, but part of my mind keeps wandering to the fact that none of my fellow employees know that we're dating. The hilarity of the incredulous facial expressions only adds to the giddiness I feel whenever Sebastian touches me, and when he pulls away I'm giggling like crazy.

"Well, good morning to you, too," I say. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."

"I missed you," he murmurs in between kisses on my nose, my cheeks, my neck. "And we need to talk."

I'm as red as a tomato. "In here?"

Sebastian straightens up and looks at the astonished staff, as if only just realizing where we are.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, um...this way."

His hand rests gently on the small of my back as he leads me into an empty hallway. He stops walking and pulls me into a warm embrace. I inhale the addictive scent of his cologne while he plays with my hair.

"What?" I mumble into his shoulder. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

A morose chuckle escapes his lips.

"Yeah." His voice is rough, thick with emotion. I pull away and look into his eyes. They are just red enough for me to know it's serious.

"Sebastian," I say. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm right here for you."

On of his hands cups my face while the other wraps around my waist to pull me closer. Our stomachs touch like we're about to tango, but our eyes never leave each other.

"I love you," he whispers. His breath smells like minty tooth paste, and I hope that if the world has any justice I don't have morning breath.

"I love you so much," Sebastian repeats. "And I would never lie to you, not unless I was wrong about what I thought was the truth."

"Oh, come on, Sebastian." I half-smile. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that true love is unconditional?"

"I want to kiss you so badly right now," he says. "But if I start, I'll never stop."

"That could be arranged."

He laughs a little.

"Kate, you are so wonderful. I wish I didn't have to leave."

"Leave?" I ask, frowning. Then it dawns on me. "Oh! The Plains Nation."

He nods forlornly.

"That's what I wanted to tell you," he murmurs. "Our intell recently informed us that tensions have been mounting. We're leaving this afternoon."

It's like I've been shot in the gut. He's already leaving? This is not fair.

"Are you sure it can't wait?" I beg. "This is so sudden. Can't we just have the rest of today to say goodbye?"

"I wish we could, Kate, but this is my duty."

Suddenly, his eyes light up with the birth of a new idea.

"Come with me!" he says.

My mouth drops open. "What?"

"Just hear me out," Sebastian pleads. "The last thing I want to do is leave you here alone for a month, but maybe I don't have to! The other guys don't really bring their wives along on these kinds of things, but they all married the sort of women who wouldn't hold up on the road. You, on the other hand, used to travel on your own all the time before you started working here. So what do you say?"

"Well, I-" I stutter in surprise. "Of course I want to."

"Really? That's-"

"But."

He deflates. "But?"

I want to say yes so badly. I've never visited the Plains Nation, and beyond that, it is so cosmically unfair that a man Sebastian's age can pull off puppy dog eyes.

"But," I say against my will, "if you think it thought, this might not be a great idea. The Monroe Republic and the Plains Nation aren't exactly bff's right now. What if )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) sees my presence as a weakness, or better yet, find some way to use me against you in the negotiations.

"Besides-" I do my best to add in a smile. "-someone has to plan the wedding, right? If we leave it all to Anna, the entire Republic will go bankrupt."

I'm sure my face shows a mirror image of my fiancé's longing, but he smiles in a way that's both defeated and amused.

"Fine. Just answer me one question before I go," says Sebastian. He's using that tone of voice where I know to brace myself and try to laugh in a more attractive way than my usual snorting when the joke comes.

"I'll do my best," I promise.

He winks. "Why did I choose someone so much smarter than myself?"

Instead of answering or laughing, I start kissing him. I don't want him to go. I would much rather stand here all day, making out in our own little section of the world. Too soon though, somebody nearby clears his throat. Reality his, and Sebastian and I take a step back.

"I'm s-sorry t-to interrupt, sir."

A soldier maybe a year or two older than me stares at the ground in discomfort.

Sebastian replies evenly, "What is it?"

The young man's eyes dart up to the general's face for a split second before returning to the floor.

"G-general Matheson said to t-tell you that the, that the horses are r-ready, sir."

"Miles, huh?" Sebastian grins. "Since he knew where I'd be, I'll bet he picked someone who would be sure to feel especially awkward. Well, I won't hold you here forever. Go along, and I will be down there in a minute."

The guy nods with a quick jerk of his neck and all but runs back down the hallway.

"Well, then." I turn back to Sebastian. "Now that everyone knows, we really _are_ official. Like, practically facebook official!"

"Oh, man!" He starts cracking up. "Geez, Kate, where do you come up with this stuff?"

"What can I say? My brain is magic."

"Seriously, though," gasps Sebastian as he futilely attempts to regain his composure. "Did you have to mention facebook? Now I'll spend the rest of the day thinking about my lost love!"

"Lost love? Don't you dare tell me you're talking about facebook!"

"No, of course not! Cityville. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get to level 50?"

"Shut up!"

We laugh so hard we wind up sitting on the ground because it's too hardtop remain standing. The image of Sebastian Monroe sitting hunched over a computer, waiting for the little yellow energy icon to refill, is ridiculous beyond words.

Of course, no laughter in the world could make us forget the inevitable.

"I'm going to miss you, Kate."

I take Sebastian's hand in mine. "It'll be okay. Just promise me you won't get hurt. Promise me you'll come home."

"Of course. We have to wait for the romantic tragedies until _after_ we're married."

"Sebastian," I growl. He chuckles softly and brushes some hair out of my face.

"I, General Sebastian Monroe, do solemnly swear to return to you, Katherine Jefferson, the most beautiful woman in the world. Then we shall be wed and spend our lives together, henceforth and forevermore."

"Okay, Romeo, I trust you," I surrender. "Let's get you to your horse before Miles blows a gasket."

"As you wish."

He offers me an arm with a ridiculous bow, still way over exaggerating the whole gentleman thing he started with that speech. I trip over my own feet when I try to curtsy in return, but Sebastian catches me and helps me regain my footing. In the end, we decide to go with the classic arms-around-each-other's-waists thing.

I lean into Sebastian as we walk down the cruelly long hallway. I inhale only through my nose, so I can remember the intoxicating smell of his cologne. I try to remember everything: The tingling heat where his hand rubs circles on my waist; the soft, controlled sound of his breathing; the way his eyes can't stay on the hallway in front of him, because they keep drifting toward me; the feel of our hearts pounding out two conflicting rhythms simultaneously.

"There you are, Bass!" calls Miles as we meander into the courtyard. "What took you so long?"

"Got distracted. Be there in a sec."

Sebastian turns to me, and the soldiers finishing tying packs and making last-minute saddle adjustments fade away, becoming nothing more than meaningless background noise.

"I love you," I say. Instead of responding, Sebastian pulls me in for one final kiss. It doesn't last long, but too much more would feel weird in such a public place, anyway.

"I love you, too," he finally says. "And I'll see you again in a few weeks. Goodbye, Kate."

"Goodbye."

Reluctantly, he turns away and mounts his horse. After a brief conversation with Miles, he calls out an order and the whole group leaves. I don't go back inside until long after the last man has disappeared down the Philadelphia streets.


	10. Chapter 9

"So, you're saying if I choose red roses, it will be borderline cliché, but if I choose pink, it will be too girly for Sebastian?"

Anna claps her hands in delight. "Exactly!"

The past two and a half weeks have been devoted solely to the hideous tasks of guest lists and catering. My maid of honor decided to give me a break from those particular tasks for today, though I'm flunking nearly every floral arrangement test I get. Anna, who has taken to calling Sebastian, "Your Bassy-poo," makes five choices for every "um" I utter.

"Okay," she says. "How about this: White roses with lilac accents? You said something about purple bridesmaid dresses, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because," explains Anna, like it's obvious, "if the dresses match the flowers, it would be super cute. Ooh, and then we can make purple a recurring theme, and since purple and blue are so similar, we could keep lots of lilac hues in the invitations and the decorations, but we can still add navy undertones so we don't over-feminize your Bassy-poo."

"Sounds good to me. So what's next on our list?"

"Hmm..." Anna ponders. "We could see about Chloe's progress on you dress."

Chloe Martinez, the most skilled seamstress in Phili, took my measurements about twelve days ago. It probably isn't finished, but the walk to Chloe's shop will be a nice break from work. Even so, for a reason I can't quite identify, the idea makes me sad.

"Sure," I say anyway. "Let's just grab some lunch first."

"Do you think we have time to eat out?"

"No, probably not."

Anna sighs. "I guess it's just another day of on-the-go sandwiches, huh?"

"Yup."

We head down to the kitchen. I haven't been down to see anyone for a few weeks. I've had to eat out or ask Anna to bring me something on her way to my room after her shift ends. I have a box of granola bars stock piled for breakfast. On Anna's days off (which she has been getting a lot more of as Monroe's official wedding planner) we are already out and about checking out venues or perusing flower shops, so vendors and cafes wind up feeding us. I may not be complete besties with the kitchen staff, but I like to think of us as more or less friends, and I think it will be nice to say hi.

The kitchen is always alive and buzzing so near lunch, but when Anna and I walk in, the whispering starts. The lively chatter is slowly replaced by a steady hiss. Anna roles her eyes and grabs some sandwich materials from the cupboards. I do my best to casually follow suit, but I can feel the eyes glued to my back as I work. Among the hushed tones, a few solitary words make it to my ears: "Wedding...Power...Monroe."

"Ignore them," mumbles Anna just loud enough for me to hear. I wonder if she deals with this all the time, but she seems too peeved to have had time to get used to it. Besides, these are her friends; she's the one who sees them every single day on the same level, whereas I work far away from the kitchen and can go without seeing them for more than a day or two.

"Okay, that's enough!" my friend finally explodes. Every head swivels simultaneously toward her voice. "You all should just take a picture. It'll last longer!"

Nobody responds, so I suggest we leave.

"I don't see why," insists Anna, stubborn as the mule she must have been in a past life. "It's not like you've done anything wrong. So you fell in love with someone who happened to be powerful? Cry me a river."

"Come on," I plead. "It's fine. There's nothing you have to prove."

"I'm sorry if I don't like to see my best friend treated like garbage," she snaps. "But fine. Let's just go. Let's just give up and let the mob mentality win. Excellent!"

I don't take her anger to heart because I know it's not really directed at me. I just grab the food and follow her out the door. She's grumbling for a while, and I'll be honest: It's a bit terrifying to see someone so easygoing and happy get so pissed off. Finally, though, she begins to calm down as we walk down the streets.

"I'm sorry, Kate," she admits. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"You probably shouldn't have yelled at your other friends, either," I add. Anna sighs.

"Well, they're supposed to be your friends, too. And when it's just me, I don't get ogled at like some zoo animal. Sure, they'll ask the, 'What's it like?' questions, but it's still me."

"I think I know why." Anna tries to retort preemptively, but I cut her off. "I'm the one actually marrying the leader of the Republic. You, well, for you it's more like you got a promotion."

My friend seems to be seeing reason, but nonetheless she growls a quick, "Still."

"Great. Now that it's settled, let's see my dress."

We eat while we walk the rest of the way to save time. When we finally get to the dress shop, Chloe holds up a finger in the universal finger for "wait." She's with a young woman, who is trying on a pretty dress, and the lady who must be the mother.

"You're so beautiful!" gushes the mom. A memory claws out of the depths of my mind and sinks its merciless claws into my consciousness.

I was eight, about to be the flower girl in my aunt's wedding. My mom took me to try on dresses. I found one with the sort of skirt that lifted like a ballerina when you spun. She kept repeating how very pretty I was, and I felt like a million dollars.

I've always just assumed that my mother would be at my wedding. Yes, se said some terrible things, but so did I. I'm starting to wish she was here so I could apologize.

"Hello? Earth to Kate. Come in, Kate!"

I glance at Anna. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Are you okay?" She frowns. "The gaping morons in the kitchen really got to you, didn't they?"

"What? No! It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

I open my mouth, then close it. Of course, I told Anna everything about the big fight before my mom left, and my friend was more than happy to supply proper rage. Her parents were hippies who didn't care what she did for the most part, and my relationship with _my_ parents was obviously much different. She wouldn't get it.

My gaze remains fixed on the girl and her mom, though, and I don't think to look away before Anna follows my gaze. Now she knows.

"Kate, don't," she says, softly but still firmly. "You can be happy without her. Besides, if she was sorry, she wouldn't have left."

"I told her to leave," I remind Anna. "Plus, she has a terrible back. It wouldn't make much sense for her to travel on the offhand chance that I might _maybe_ forgive her. What if I just need to be the bigger person here?"

My friend stares at me for a minute, analyzing how serious I am. She focuses her hard gaze solidly into my eyes as she says, "Fine. I don't control you. If you want to go visit your mom, then fine. Heck, maybe it's even the right thing to do. But you should know that I won't come with you."

"W-what?"

Anna wouldn't come with? I couldn't make that journey without my best friend.

"No, Anna," I say. "I'm not going to leave you here alone."

"Don't worry about it." She smiles slightly. "I guess if you really think about it, that fight made up for all the lost mother v. teenager fights you could have been having over the past six years or so. Now you're all evened out in the universe or whatever. Time to go make nice. I'll be planning the wedding, and I can go a lot faster if I don't need to explain reasoning to you on every little thing."

"Hey!"

"Chill." Anna's eyes light up with the malicious fire of teasing. "We both know it's true. I can't take a pee break without confusing you. But-" She interrupts my protest. "-on a more serious note, you shouldn't be gone for more than a few days, right? Just try to talk Sergeant Baker about getting a few guards to take you there."

I hesitate. "Should I be worried or grateful that you aren't putting up a fight?"

She laughs. "Shut up, you. Let's get a move on, though, so your boo doesn't come back to find out you're gone."

"Will do, chief."

We wind up going back without checking on my dress at all. As soon as we get home, we head straight for Jeremy Baker, who's been left in charge of Philadelphia while Sebastian and Miles have been in the Plains Nation. He's drinking a beer in his office, reading a report for something that is clearly boring him. He smiles when he sees us.

"What can I do ya for, ladies?"

"Hi, Jeremy," I reply. Captain Baker is the sort of person who is easy to be comfortable around in general, and beyond that, I'm making a conscious effort to act casual around Sebastian's friends.

"What up, Capt Bake?" Anna jokes. He laughs.

"Technically, I'm supposed to send you away if there's not an official purpose, but I'll make an exception because this memo from the Monroe Republic/Georgia Federation border is putting me to sleep. 'No new conflicts have arisen, nothing interesting whatsoever is happening, bla, bla, bla.'"

"Sounds hideous." I grin. "Unfortunately, we do have a legit reason for being here."

"Crap. Okay, then. What is it?"

"I need to take a quick trip," I answer. "There's some wedding-related business a few miles north of here I need to take care of, and I was wondering if you could spare a few soldiers to accompany me."

Technically, not a lie. Jeremy furrows his eyebrows, considering.

"What are you doing and where exactly are you doing it?" he asks. "Because I can't just let my boss's girl run around dangerous territory without all the facts."

"The Sved Family Apple Orchard," I say, trying to recall what my mother had told me. "It's actually a really cool place. Mr. Sved had left the Amish community before the blackout because he didn't like their rigid beliefs, but due to his upbringing, he and his family have thrived since the power shut off. Anyway, I hear they make this phenomenal apple cider, and I want to see if they'll do a bulk order for the wedding. Especially since it'll probably be in the fall."

Anna's eyes widen in awe of my improvisation, and Jeremy nods slowly.

"Alright," he agrees. "Sounds worthy enough. Just be back by the end of the week, or Bass will kill me when you're not here."

"Thanks so much!" I beam. "You're the best!"

"Well, yeah." He smirks playfully. "Just don't tell Bass that."

"Deal. So when will my group be ready?"

"I can get them for you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Cool. And thanks again!"

"Anytime. See ya, Kate. Anna."

When he says Anna's name, something in his voice changes ever so slightly, and the wave she gives him in return is so flirtatious that even I pick up on it.

"What was that?" I ask once we're in the hallway.

"What was what?" Anna's over-innocent look fools no one.

I elaborate, "That exchange between you and Captain Baker. Why haven't I heard about...whatever this is?"

"Come on, Kate. Jeremy is way too into his work to even consider a relationship. I've just been crushing from afar for a while. No big deal."

"No?" I ask. "Did you not see the way he was looking at you?"

"He was looking at me?!"

The eagerness in my friend's voice is funny enough that I forget to be mad at her.

"Oh, yeah," I say. "Totally."

"Hmmm," Anna considers. "Well, since I'm your maid of honor, I think I'll wait until the excitement of the wedding dies down before I start pursuing a real relationship. Otherwise, it would be too stressful."

"No way," I whisper.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You just used common sense to turn down a potential boyfriend! Quick, where's the champagne? We need to celebrate!"

"You're a turd, you know that?" growls my friend.

"Yeah, yeah," I reply offhandedly. "Now are you gonna come help me pack or what?"

She smirks. "You have so little faith in me."

Of course, by "helping me pack" she really means critiquing my wardrobe. I am trying to dress for practicality, not beauty. But no, I have to be a little more showy and a lot more fashion-forward.

"Come on," I complain. "It's not like I'm going on a date! I'm riding on horseback out into the countryside. Sebastian won't even be there to see my nice outfits before they're ruined."

"Don't be a wuss!" my friend challenges. "Go out there, look hot, and take it like a man!"

"But I'm not a man!"

Of course, then she starts singing "Be a Man" from Mulan. Every time I try to protest, mentioning that "take it like a man" and "look hot" don't mix well, at least not in the context she's using, Anna just sings louder.

Finally, I get everything I need and throw out everything Anna thinks I need. She goes back to her room, defeated, and I collapse on my bed. Curiously enough, I don't have any trouble going to sleep. The next morning, though, I'm awake before dawn. What will happen when I find my mom? Will she apologize and want to come back, or will she throw me out the door and tell me to never come back? Maybe I'm overreacting, but I've seen much stranger things happen.

When it is at last late enough to eat breakfast and head down to meet my escort, I'm still shaking. I do my best to hide it, but Anna notices right away.

"Calm down," she mumbles as she gives me a hug. "It's going to be fine; you'll see."

"Thanks," I whisper.

There are five me and one woman accompanying me. Captain Baker and Anna are the only ones who see me off, and I go through my goodbyes in a bit of a haze. I haven't left Philadelphia in more than a year, and even with an armed guard, I'm more anxious than I ever have been while traveling.

By noon, I'm hot hungry, and saddle sore. I just want to stop and rest for awhile, but I don't want to seem like some dainty little flower that needs to be watered frequently lest she wilt. No, I want to make sure that these soldiers know that I'm not leading them on some stupid errand to satisfy my prissy needs.

By three in the afternoon, I'm downright homicidal.

On the bright side, though, we are finally arriving at the orchard. I grab an apple right off a tree as we head down the path, promising myself that I'll offer to pay for it later. In the thickest part of the woods so far, gunshots are fired at our horses. I fall off and hit my head on the ground. As the world goes black, I see the blurry figures, armed with rifles and machetes, coming out of the trees.

...

When I was little, I had this weird recurring dream. I'm having it again right now.

Mickey Mouse, who I've always thought was creepy, is chasing me around, claiming to have free tickets to Disney World. Somehow, I know that if he really catches up with me, Mickey will pull a knife out from behind one of his freakishly gigantic ears.

I have to get away from the unnatural excuse for a mouse. I run up buildings, defying laws of gravity, and hurdle through a window. Inside, Snow White sits on a rocking chair, knitting.

"Snow!" I scream, forgetting this is a dream. "Help me!"

The princess stands up gracefully, a polite look of concern on her face. She holds her arms out, like she always does at this part, and I run into them like _I_ always do.

"Dear child," coos Snow White. "Whatever is the matter? Such a young girl should never have to deal with such fear."

"He's chasing me!" I scream. "He's going to kill me!"

"Who, darling? I will protect you?"

Just then, Mickey Mouse comes back in, an evil scowl on his face. Snow turns to him, a look of delight on her face.

"Mickey!" she chirps. "How are you?"

"Oh, boy!" he exclaims. "I wanted to give Katie here free tickets to Disney World!"

"Really?" The princess smiles at me in reassurance. "Don't worry, child; all woodland creatures are to be trusted."

I gasp in horror at Snow's betrayal. How could she do this to me? She's a Disney Princess, for crying out loud!

Mickey takes that knife out from behind his ear, along with a fork, and licks his lips menacingly.

When I wake up in a cold sweat, I realize all too late that I should have stayed in the nightmare.

...

Miles waits impatiently for his friend. The past few days, Bass has been pushing the men and horses to get back to Phili long before anyone would expect them back. Why, then, are they making a stop in Ohio?

"Stay here," Miles growls to the troops, who are resting from the hard ride of the morning. No one objects as their co-leader storms into the old, abandoned storage complex.

"Bass!" he calls out. "Bass, where are you?"

"Down here!" grunts an out-of-breath voice from down the aisle. Miles runs around a corner to see his friend struggling to lift a door that's been rusted shut.

"Help me!" he gasps. Though confused, Miles grabs the bottom of the garage door and pulls up. After a few excruciating minutes, the pair manages to get it opened enough to go into the little room.

The inside of the storage unit has a few pieces of antique furniture crammed in, each of which actually seems to have beat the odds and stayed in pristine condition. A few boxes lay stacked in the corners, but otherwise, the area is surprisingly spacious.

"Bass," whispers Miles. He doesn't know why he doesn't speak at a normal voice, whether it be from the echo-y room or the look on Bass's face. "What is all this?"

The man doesn't answer right away. He has a far away look in his eyes, like the blackout never happened, like electricity hasn't even been invented yet. This stuff certainly could have been from way back then.

"Do you remember when we were little," says Bass in a choked voice, "and I used to always visit my grandparents in Ohio?"

"Yeah," breathes Miles. "What does that have to do with this?"

Again, Bass doesn't speak immediately. When he does, his speech is loaded with emotions of the past. "When they died, my dad and his sister thought that some of their inheritance was too delicate to be in a house full of crazy kids, which applied to both of them, but still to sentimental to be sold. In that box over there, there's the first camera my great-grandpa ever owned. Inside these drawers you can find my grandma's wedding dress. And in that crate, my grandpa's old baseball cards. He had a Jackie Robinson from the days he was still playing! And here..."

Bass trails off now, taking a tentative step toward an old, wooden writing desk. He pauses, then takes another step, holding out his hand. Once again he freezes, as if afraid to open the drawer. Finally, he grasps the handle and slowly pulls it toward himself.

"Bass? Is that-"

"Yes."

Miles stares at his friend in disbelief.

"Really?" he asks. "You're really that cheap?"

Bass shoves him into the wall.

"Will you shut up?" he growls. "Kate would appreciate something like this more than one I spent all the diamonds in the republic on!"

"Dude. She's a woman. They all want a really expensive engagement ring. It's a female code."

"First of all, it's 24 karat gold. And second of all, this ring has been in my family since it survived the sinking of the Titanic! It's practically sacred!"

Miles rolls his eyes. "Whatever, dude. Let's just hope your girlfriend is as much of a lady as you are."

Bass just glares at Miles. "You're the one who spent all of high school acting like the 'bad boy' for the sole purpose of taking girls out to show them your sweet, sentimental side at exactly the right moment."

"That doesn't count. All teenagers are idiots. What about that one time when you-"

"General Monroe! General Matheson! Sir!"

The two boys are spared the piss-off when Tom Neville, who had supposedly been in Philadelphia, runs in.

"Officer Neville?" asks Bass. "What are you doing here?"

By the look on his face, it's bad. He actually cringes-yes, Tom-tough-as-nails-Neville-as he hands over the message he had brought. The cringe, as well as the use of a senior officer to deliver a simple message, puts a cold ache in Bass's gut.

_Bass,_

_You are going to freak out, but could you please try not to snap anybody's neck? Kate-_

He had to close his eyes. Kate? Kate was in trouble? No, that didn't even make any sense. Bass would have known if she was hurt. He would have felt something change on the inside. What, was she having an affair or something?

_No._ The thought of that possibility is just ridiculous, right? Yeah, sure she deserves someone way better than him, but they are totally in love. Besides, Kate is the sort of person who would at least have the decency to break up with her fiancé if she met someone else. Except that he hasn't been around...

"Bass? Bass, what did it say?"

He blinks in surprise at Miles's worried tone. "What? Oh, I didn't read very much of it yet."

Ignoring his friend's look of concern, he continues reading the note.

_Kate went on a short trip. Less than a day's journey, only a few miles outside the city, and with six armed guards. One of them came back, covered in dirt and blood, two days later, saying that everyone else had been kidnapped. Those rebels, the ones who seem to think that bringing back the United States will transform the land into a magical kingdom of happiness, apparently have a base near Phili. You should come home as soon as possible so-_

Bass doesn't read the part where Jeremy mentioned the possibility of a rescue mission. He can't take any more of that stupid piece of paper. He crumples it up and throws it on the ground. A cry of rage resonates from deep inside as he lashes out on the nearest thing within arm's reach: The writing desk with the ring still in it.

_How dare they let her out of their sight!_ He feels the wood start to splinter under his bloody fist, but it's not enough. _Why would she leave when she knew I was coming right back?! _The little desk crumpled under his blows, but he can't cease until something is as broken as he is. _Is she okay?_

Tom is long gone by this point, not wanting to get shot for being the messenger. Bass wouldn't have cared about breaking down in front of him, anyway. What even matters anymore if Kate isn't safe?

The fight leaves Bass as quickly as it came. He falls over onto his side, curling up into a ball like he hasn't done since his parents and sisters died. Real sobs, the first in more than a decade, force their way out of his throat. Miles stands off to the side, reading through the note to see what's happened. He looks at his friend, who's in a vulnerable heap on the floor, and knows it won't be enough to comfort him. If anything, it will just add an element of humiliation, which is the last thing Bass needs.

Instead, Miles sifts through the bloody wooden splinters until he finds the ring. Bass would never forgive himself if he left it behind.


	11. Chapter 10

AN: Okay, so remember when I said something about college life being anticlimactic? I LIED! Welcome Week was anticlimactic. Now, I'm feeling completely screwed over by this sneaky little thing called a crapload of homework. And maybe it's my own fault for taking seventeen credits of core classes...nah, I think I'll just rant at the professors for giving me so much. Add in clubs, soccer practice, and my first car crash...Anyway, you all probably don't really care, so here's the story:

.

My wrists ache when I awake. They're tied to some sort of rod or pole, but I don't open my eyes to look around quite yet. I may have hit my head, because I'm having trouble bringing memories of how I got here to the surface. Foggily, images of men and women coming out of the trees with guns dance through my fuzzy mind.

Guns...Woods...My mom! That's why I came here! I have to get untied, have to find her.

_Wait,_ I think. _Just stop and think this through. _My mother said she's been living near the orchard where our group was when we were attacked. What if the people with the rifles hurt her? What if she died before I could apologize?

I shove that thought out of my head as quickly as possible. No. This is not the time to think about that. First, I need to focus on getting out of here. Then I need to find the soldiers I rode here with, and then they can help me look for my mom if it's safe. If I spend too much time thinking about it now, though, I'll go crazy._  
_

Slowly, I force my eyes open. In the dim lighting, I see wood and dirt, and I'm laying on something scratchy but squishy. And yellow? A horse whinnies somewhere a ways off to my right, and I piece the puzzle together.

I'm in a stable. Tied up in my own little stall. Apparently, my imprisonment was pretty spur of the moment.

Voices meander lazily to my ears. I still my breathing and pretend to sleep. A man and a woman are talking. The man sounds amused, while the woman seems to be some mix of bored and angry.

"Remind me again why we don't just kill them?"

The man laughs. "Natalie, haven't you heard? Their leader's got family here. Apparently, being the kid of someone important can save your whole crew's butts."

"I don't see why you find this so funny," Natalie mutters. "Their presence is just going to invoke a search party."

"A search party? For a handful of replaceable soldiers?"

"Didn't you know, Isaac? The girl is due to marry General Monroe himself. I'd be surprised if the whole militia wasn't surrounding our base within the week."

My blood runs cold as I realize she's referring to me. The man named Isaac guffaws.

"The kid? Monroe's getting desperate!"

"You really have no clue, do you?" Natalie growls, quickly growing irritated. "By keeping her alive, we are just setting ourselves up for an ambush!"

"Relax, Nat!" insists Isaac. "Everybody thinks this is just an apple orchard. We'll just say we've never had any militia members come here as customers. Whoever comes looking will just assume that the group fell apart before they came here."

The voices fade away as Natalie continues to worry about what will happen if my friends and I are kept alive. I wait for a good ten minutes until they've left; then I rock back and force until I get enough momentum to reach a sitting position. Having a goal, even a stupid one like sitting up despite having no use of my arms or legs, which are stuck together with an absurd amount of rope and duct tape, gives me energy like you wouldn't believe.

In a weird way, I think I get what some people like so much about war. You have something to do, a purpose. You get to keep fighting and being alive. The adrenaline rush must be what they crave.

Then again, maybe I've just completely lost it. Yeah, that's probably a lot more likely than the idea that I've discovered some great inner truth or whatever.

It's kind of embarrassing how much of a sweat I work up just to be half-propped up against the wall. Now, once I'm sitting, I don't really know what to do. My ten seconds of purpose are gone. And, as the icing on top of the cake, I have a pounding headache. Great. I just _had_ to physically exert myself after I'd been unconscious due to a head wound. Fantabulous.

I'm almost asleep again when the door to the stall slowly creaks open. Standing there is...is...

Oh, my gosh.

...

_This is all my fault_.

When Sebastian arrived yesterday, he would have strangled Jeremy if Miles hadn't intervened. Anna can still hear the screaming echoing in her head, the "What were you thinking?"s and the "How could you?"s. That day had been a blur, but Anna can recall the arrival of Kate's fiancé with a cruel clarity. He charged through the doors with a crazed, murderous look in his eyes. The staff scattered. Not even his friends wanted to be near him at that point.

Anna keeps doing her duties as a maid. Sure, she could have insisted on time off if she had really wanted to, but that would have driven her crazy. Sitting around, wondering where her best friend is and what kind of terrible things could be happening to her, knowing it's all her fault...scrubbing the linoleum wins every time.

So far, Miles and Jeremy have been the sole planners of the rescue mission; Bass, having lost all cognitive reasoning, has been holed up in his room. The only clue as to what he's even doing is the occasional sound of shattering glass.

Captain Baker is as worried about Kate as the next guy, absolutely, but it's much easier for him to become wrapped up in the problems he can directly see. Even Bass doesn't feel like a priority with his current hermit-like ways. Miles, normally an odd mix of stoic general and moronic drunk, is about to fall apart, only holding it together for Bass. Jeremy can tell that Miles doesn't seem to care much for Kate-to him, she's little more than a girl who made Bass happy-but seeing his brother completely unravel is driving him insane.

Sooner or later, the whole world may very well collapse if things keep going in this direction.

...

"Calm?! How can you expect me to be calm when you idiots just kidnapped my daughter?!"

"Melissa," insists Andrew, the leader of this unit. "You need to understand that we weren't targeting Kate; we saw a group of militia soldiers coming for us, so we acted according to our training."

"Stop it," Melissa growls in return. "Stop making excuses for yourselves. My baby is tied up in a cattle stall, and-"

Cameron, who was barely qualified to be in this meeting in the first place interrupts. "The same baby of yours who is getting married to General Monroe?"

The boy actually flinches from the glare he gets from Mrs. Jefferson.

"Don't you dare. She is young, impressionable, with no guidance beyond that hyper Anna girl. She was swept off her feet; that's all. She doesn't even know how bad things are outside of Philadelphia. So don't you _dare_ blame her for this!"

Andrew breaks in, "Cameron, why don't you go grab some water? This meeting may take awhile."

He leaves, as ordered, and the room goes silent for a few moments until Andrew speaks again.

"Alright," he says. "We might be able to find an advantage in this, or, at least, we can avoid the full force of an angry Monroe, which is something this base is very much not equipped to deal with."

"What are you saying?" asks Natalie, a woman about Melissa's age who was born to be a soldier. "You aren't just implying that we set them free? Sir, you realize that they would remember where they've been kept hostage, right?"

"Of course, Natalie," promises Andrew. "But we all know that this orchard is not really profitable, not now that people are learning how to really cultivate the land. We consume more than we can sell, so it wouldn't hurt us to abandon ship."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because, Natalie, if young Katherine sees her mother risking life and limb to save her, she will be quick to forgive any past fights. So, Melissa can go back to Philadelphia with her daughter."

"Then I'll have the chance to kill Monroe."

Andrew smiles, and the rest of the room falls silent in awe. If Monroe were to die, usurping the Republic and bringing back the US would be a real possibility. Everybody forgave Melissa for coming back the first time, understanding that Kate had told her to leave, but now there is a chance to fix everything. In the time since she's been back, Melissa has thought about what she would do over if she'd had the chance. Now she does. Except...

"But," she says, "wouldn't the guards just shoot me as soon as I put a bullet through Monroe's head?"

The room deflates slightly. Asking a friend to die isn't something anyone wants to do, but the fact remains that each person in the room had vowed to give their lives for the cause. Andrew reminds Melissa of that promise now, adding:

"Of course, you are allowed to back out of it. It's just that you would be saving lives; beyond that, you might be able to find a way out before the confusion dies down enough for the guards to come to their senses and kill you. After all, you are a very smart woman."

Melissa hesitates, not wanting to say the answer she knows she has to say. The people gathered around her hold a collective breath until she speaks.

"I will do whatever it takes."

...

My mother is standing directly in front of me. She's alive, and she has the keys to the bolt on the stall door. She's coming to rescue me.

"Mom?" My voice is scratchy from lack of use since before I left Phili. "What's happening? How'd you get away?"

She smiles, but her lips quiver and tears form in her eyes. "I-I didn't escape. These people, they've been trying to overthrow the Monroe Republic. And...and I've been helping them."

She might as well have shown up with a knife pressed against my fiancé's neck.

"W-what?"

"Kate, just listen to me-"

"No!" My voice cracks as I try to shout at her. "How could you do something like this? I was right when I told you to leave! I can't believe I actually came back to forgive you!"

Her eyes grow wide. "That's why you were coming? Oh, Katie-"

"Shut up! Just stop it!"

Fat tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I wish my mom would leave, but instead she kneels down beside me. I'm trying to stop crying, but in the end that just leaves me hiccupping. My mom reaches her arms out as if to hug me, and I jerk away, falling backward into the pile of hay.

"Kate?"

I close my eyes, trying to seal the world out. But my mother plows ahead anyway, seemingly oblivious to my wishes.

"Kate, honey, you have to listen to me. They-that is, my fellow rebels-they wanted to kill you and your friends instantly. I convinced them to keep you alive, but they told me that they don't want to keep you much longer. As long as you're not dead, you're a danger to our whole base."

I open my eyes now, only to glare at her.

"Then why don't you just kill me?" I spit.

She cringes. "I guess I deserved that. But you have to understand that hearing plans to kill my baby girl was an eye-opener. I had never expected these people to hurt someone so maliciously, and I've been doing a lot of thinking. Every day, they are killing militia soldiers. As a medic, I get to pretend that it doesn't happen, but now the time for make-believe is over. I can't let anyone hurt you, Katie. You're all I have left, and I've already done a pretty good job of screwing up any chances we've had. So now I'm going to get you out of here."


	12. Chapter 11

I creep down the hallway with a dagger in hand. My heart beats impossibly fast and loud, and I keep praying that no one else can hear the tribal war dance it pounds out against my chest. I'm almost through the doorway without being seen. The guard at the end of the hall is staring out the window. He isn't looking at me.

Then, he turns in slow motion, and I spring into action as our whole plan goes down the drain.

...

**Two days earlier**

"So now I'm going to get you out of here."

I squint at my mother.

"Can I trust you?" I ask. "How do I know this isn't another lie?"

She does her best to offer my a smile as she promises, "I love you. That much is true. And even if I was heartless enough to lead my own daughter into some kind of trap, what would that accomplish? Everybody here wants to kill you; they don't need to make it look like an accident in the heat of an escape attempt."

I can't think of a good reason for her to lie, but I still don't want to trust her. She's with a group that's been plotting the overthrow of the man I'm in love with; who knows what else she's capable of?

The only problem is that I'm stuck here, tied up to a wall. Really, what other option do I have?

"Fine," I grumble. "But only because I don't have much of a choice. Don't think this changes anything."

No surprise that she looks upset, but I have no intention of the mushy-gushy apology I'd had planned. My mother has lost my trust, and she could very well never earn it back.

My mom stands up as if to leave, and in defiance of every voice of reason in my head I call out to her.

"Wait," I say reluctantly. "If we're going to this, then what's the plan?"

A smile tugs briefly at the corners of her lips.

"It's nothing too complicated, because they trust me. First..."

...

Riding on a horse at full speed, Bass finally feels alive. The past two days, during which Miles and Jeremy have been scouring maps to determine possible routs Kate took on her trip, have been nothing but misery without reprieve.

Now, they are finally doing something. Jeremy is taking care of Phili while Miles and Bass go off on a search party.

This is where Bass belongs. He's not _happy,_ not without Kate by his side, but for the first time in days he feels alive. The wind whipping through his hair, stinging his face, is like life itself slapping him, reminding him that hope is not lost. He _will_ find her. There's just not another option anymore.

Miles calls the group to a stop for a water break. Bass pulls him aside in anger.

"Miles," he growls. "What do you think you're doing? Kate needs me, and we're stopping for a little drink of water? What's wrong with you!?"

"What's wrong with me?" Miles repeats. "Are you freaking kidding me!? Bass, if our troops fall over from dehydration in the middle of a fight, what's the point of coming out here in the first place?"

Beaten, Bass takes a rock and chucks it at a squirrel. He's mad enough that the scampering creature doesn't even have time to see the projectile flying toward it. Miles snorts, and Bass turns to him. No, he's not just snorting; he's covering his mouth, trying so hard to hide his laughter that tears are welling up in his eyes and his face his dark red.

Bass stares at his brother in astonishment, then starts to laugh with him. Neither has slept more than a few hours over the past week, and sometimes when huge amounts of stress build up inside a person it forces its way out in any way it can. Today, the sight of a squirrel getting hit with a rock just hit something inside of Miles, and he cracked from the lack of sleep and overuse of his emotions.

The soldiers getting a drink stare at their bosses in total confusion. They never laugh like that when there's work to be done, even going as far as to punish anyone who cracks a joke on duty; strict discipline is everything in the Monroe Militia.

But here they are, the two leaders of the Republic, falling over with laughter, on the most important mission of their lives. That's certainly something you don't see every day.

...

The plan is so crazy, it just might work.

Okay, maybe it's not _completely_ insane, but it's sure as heck crazier than sneaking out in the dead of night! But no, my idea won't work because there's night patrol. We will apparently be safer if we leave during the orchard's annual harvest festival, where the only guard we'll need to pass is a friend of my mom's. Theoretically.

I'm supposed to believe that I just happened to get here right before this tradition which luckily the perfect opportunity to escape. But the coincidence is just too well-timed! I've pretty much been given the choice to either rot in a cell or follow my mom's pan, and to be frank, that's not an easy choice right now; the suspicious circumstances aren't making it easy for my mother to regain my trust.

I have been told that the soldiers who accompanied me here-all except for the one who hasn't been accounted for, who is probably dead and whose name I never bothered to figure out-have been informed of our oddly convenient plan. I just pray that listening to my mother won't get them all killed.

The next morning, I wake up to find weapons carefully stashed under some hay near me. A couple of pistols and three hunting knives, which I assume are backup in case the plan fails. My first order of business is to cut off the rope around my wrists. (I try to leave it more or less intact, though, in case someone comes in with the intention of retying the binds.)

Noon comes and goes, with only a glass of water and a piece of stale bread to keep me company. My stomach churns in anticipation as the hour grows later. I could very well die if this plan goes sour. I'm definitely not ready for that. I'll never get to see Anna again, or...Sebastian.

For the first time, I allow myself to think about how my fiancé may be faring. Is he even back from his trip yet? Does he think I left him on purpose? Or is he coming for me right now?

_Please, _I think. _Please come for me before I have to follow through with this stupid plan._

Of course, just because I wish upon a star doesn't mean that all my dreams will come true. My mother comes for me in the late morning on the day of the festival.

"Are you ready?"

I nod. "Yeah. Sure."

"Then follow me."

I grab the weapons out from their hiding spot and hand them out to the soldiers as we free them. I carry only one hunting knife for myself because I've never learned to shoot a gun. My mother wants me to take something more, but I refuse. I'm not going to let the guards who accompanied me go into a potential fight unarmed.

Luckily, the stables are separated from the main building. We follow a path a ways into the forest, passing only a single guard, the one my mom bargained with for a safe passage. But it seems as though he decided to double-cross her, because suddenly the path erupts in gunfire.

Everyone in my group drops to the ground and scampers behind trees. I glance around, doing a quick inventory. The soldiers are fine, but my mom is sitting on the ground, clutching her leg. Her face is white with pain.

People are looking to me for instructions. In this instant, I have been tacitly and unanimously appointed leader. It occurs to me that the soldiers in my company probably aren't very high on the chain of command; of course Jeremy would have sent rookies on a simple mission to get apple cider! This means that they don't really know what they're doing in a combat mission of this caliber, that I'm responsible for their lives.

I look at the soldiers, then at my mother. Then I swear under my breath and address my troops.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," I say. "I am going to run, with one of you, back to the compound as a distraction. If I succeed-"

"Kate, no!" interrupts my mom. "You don't have to do this! You're a little girl, not a military general!"

"Somebody has to do _something_!" I insist. "What else are we going to do-wait here like sitting ducks!? I'm not some damsel in distress who can't survive without her prince charming! I don't want to be the adult here, but somebody has to!"

I don't realize how much venom I'm packing into my words until they're out in the open. It's like the severity of the situation has unleashed all of my anger and it won't stop. I cut off my mother's question mid-sentence when she tries to ask what I mean.

"I was all alone!" I try to keep myself from shouting. This is dangerous; we should just run while there's a lull in enemy fire. But I can't stop.

"I was all alone, and I needed you! You didn't even try to come home! You just sat here with your little rebel friends, planning and scheming like I didn't exist! I thought you were dead, but you knew I was fine and you knew how to find me! And then when I finally found you again, you stormed off and left in a hissy fit after one little fight! _I'm _ the one who found you. _I'm _ the one who decided to be the bigger person and come here to apologize. Well, if you want to be the child in this relationship, then that's fine with me! Just stay out of my way when I have to make the adult decisions."

I point at the oldest man in the group, who is about twenty-five.

"You," I say. "Come with me. The rest of you, take my mom and leave. Wait for us a mile down the road if no one follows you. Go!"

The soldier I chose sprints off with me, and I can't risk a glance to see if the rest of the group is following my orders. The whole forest is a shaky maze of bullets and branches. Suddenly I'm glad that we chose daylight hours for our escape, because otherwise this distraction wouldn't work.

We fly into the compound and shut the doors behind us. A few children playing tag in the hallway stop to stare at us, then scatter. I turn to my counterpart and point down the hallway. We go around a few corners, trying to stay to the left until we can find another exit. Quickly we stop and try to slow our breathing.

At the end of a corridor is a door. A window next to it proves that it's a way out. The only problem is a guard, who stands, looking out the window. The man I took with me pulls out his hand gun, but I grab his arm. When he looks at me in confusion, I tap my ear, then hold up the hunting knife I took. Slitting his throat from behind would draw much less attention to us than a gunshot.

I creep down the hallway with a dagger in hand. My heart beats impossibly fast and loud, and I keep praying that no one else can hear the tribal war dance it pounds out against my chest. I'm almost through the doorway without being seen. The guard at the end of the hall is staring out the window. He isn't looking at me.

Then, he turns in slow motion, and I spring into action as our whole plan goes down the drain.


End file.
